The Clown and the Scarecrow
by footshooter
Summary: It's not like the Joker and Scarecrow wouldn't meet in Arkham, is it? And sometimes it's more beneficial to stick together than it is to claim your own territory.
1. Chapter 1

Someone was singing. Singing in the sad, desperate way that someone sings when they're incarcerated in a padded cell, in a nuthouse, for, well, being a nutcase. And that's because they were. But not everyone here was.

The Joker lay back on his bed and closed his eyes, effectively blocking out the noise coming from two cells down the corridor. He had better things to do with his time than get irritated. Things such as thinking about Batman, thinking about explosions, and gasoline, and fire and knives.

God, he missed his knives.

He sighed. Arkham had a way of just pushing into your head. He wasn't crazy, he always lived by that thought. He wasn't, everyone else was. It was just the way it was. But if he didn't get out of here soon, he probably would be. I mean, he'd enjoyed the rest and the prepared food and stuff, but the counselling was tedious and everyone seemed to be fighting over each other to get his case. And really, he didn't want to talk about his childhood, or any of that bollocks. So he told each person a different story just to imagine the expressions on their faces when it turns out that their 'good work' was a pile of garbage that needed to go in the trash. And the expression on the previous guy who had decided he was definitely right only to be crushed too.

It was the only fun he got.

He needed to leave though. Now, preferably, but if not pretty soon. It was probably pretty easy once he put his mind to it, but now he came to think of it, it was quite _difficult_to put his mind to it when someone was singing like someone trying to escape a collapsed mine. So much endless despair.

It was beginning to, uh, grate.

A sharp bang from the door of the cell next to him almost made him jump. But only almost. He snickered to himself, at least someone was taking their time to threaten to carve someones eyeballs out with a spoon, and it wasn't him. that meant _they__'__d_get the extra councilling and _he__'__d_have extra time to plan his escape.

He pulled a face at himself. He hated plans. But this wasn't going to be the easiest thing in the world for him to do on his own.

"Hey! Mate!"

The Joker smiled at the way the word 'mate' was scornfully dragged out by his fellow inmate.

"You wanna _shut__the__fuck__up_before I find a way to do it for you?"

He hadn't paid much attention to his 'neighbour' up until now, but he sounded a lot _saner_than the asylums average nutjob. A lot clearer. The Joker sat up and tried to picture the voice. Calm, collected, American with a _tinge_of something else…

The sound of heavy footsteps marching past his door made the Joker snarl. It was always so _noisy_ in here. He couldn't ever think. A bang on the door next to him just wound him up further. He really missed his knives.

"Er, you might wanna be the one to, ahem, _'__shut__the__fuck__up__'_, mate," the guard said, mockingly. "It's your fault he's like this."

Those words echoes around the Jokers head and brought a massive smile to his face. _'__It__'__s__your__fault__he__'__s__like__this__'_, even blocking out the shouted abuse the inmate hurled back.

The Joker was currently sat in a cell next to none other than the Scarecrow. Doctor Crane himself. The Joker did a little dance in the confined space, not capable of holding in his glee. The guard had finished shouting at Crane and peered into the Joker's cell on his way past at the excited giggling coming from within.

"What the fucks got you so excited, freak?"

The Joker stopped and stared at the guard, still smirking.

"Oh, nothing. Just thinking about carving your cheeks with a potato peeler."

The guard shook his head and turned away in disgust, while the Joker, ever smiling, sat back down on the edge of the bed.


	2. Chapter 2

The Joker waited a while, listening to the pacing and mutterings of the man in the next cell before he stood up and pressed his head as far to the wall as he could. He needed to be quiet, but he needed to be heard. Not easy, in a place like Arkham. The sound travelled well, but that also meant everyone else could hear you.

By some stroke of luck, the mental started singing again.

Dr Crane felt like screaming. He couldn't deal with the lack of warm air, no comfortable bed, oppressive atmosphere, rude guards and the lunatics surrounding him for much longer. He was pretty sure he wasn't insane, but equally sure he was about to tip over the edge.

And worst of all, nine tenths of the inmates here had something against him. He barely left the cell even when he had chance, which wasn't very often, because he was sick to death of looking over his shoulder for some goon with a drinks stirrer or whatever the hell they were throwing these days.

And talking to the people he used to order round… They were so gleeful, such arseholes. He didn't want to talk. He experimented, something people did all the time, why was he the one to be punished for it?

And god, he wanted a decent cup of coffee. Or even a mediocre cup of coffee. Literally any kind of coffee. And he knew where the tearoom was, and how to get to it, and the codes for the door (providing they hadn't been changed, of course). That was torture in itself.

"Psst, Dr Crane."

He froze, his mind racing through his hundreds of patients (victims) to try and place the voice. It was familiar, but he couldn't put it to a face.

"Hey, Crane! Yeh hear me?"

Ah well, he might as well go with it. The voice didn't sound like a direct threat, anyway.

"Er… Yeah?"

The Joker smiled to himself.

"You as bored of this place as I am?"

Crane paused, wondering where this was going.

"Yeah, I probably am… Who am I talking to?"

Ah, the Joker thought, ever the psychiatrist.

"Why don't we speak, ah, face to face? Try and pry off the… eight, ninth panel on the wall nearest me, will ya?"  
>"Alright." <p>

Crane did as he was told. It wasn't as difficult to wreck the cells as people thought.

"Done?"  
>"Yeah."<p>

"Alrighty then… Stand back."

The Joker lined himself up against the opposite wall and then took a run at it, his calculations of the plaster, and its weak spots, pretty spot on as he kicked up his leg and managed to put quite a decent sized hole through it. Dust spluttered up and left both the Joker and Crane spluttering. The Joker waved it from his face and cleared some dust from the floor with his sock, which he then pulled off and threw across the room, before sitting down.

Crane managed to open his eyes, which widened comically when he saw the painted face of the Joker sat behind his wall. Once he'd recovered from the shock he walked forward, laid down a towel and sat on the floor in an imitation of the Joker, who, at that present moment was licking his scars. He had a general air of weirdness around him, the scars making the painted on clowns face more sinister and the grin which had been settled on his face since he first appeared.

"That was the first thing I've destroyed in a while. That was fun."

Crane's eyebrows rose for a second, and then fell again. He was starting to remember his place, the Joker noted. Once with the freaks, well, you are one. He extended his hand through the hole.

"I'm assuming you know who I am, but if not, it's the Joker." 

Crane took his hand and shook it.

"Jonathan."

The Joker nodded.

"Now, down to business. I'm bored, I'm sick of being cramped up surrounded by _crazy_people, and I want to be back out there causing havoc. I feel like my brains shrinking."

"Right."  
>"So I wanna bust outta here. But, I'll need some help."<br>"Right…"  
>"And you seem the perfect guy to give me such help. Someone equally as bored, someone whose brilliance shouldn't be kept in a box, someone who knows the ins and outs of the place…"<br>"I see."

The Joker sat back slightly and licked his lips again, the proposition forming into words as he stared directly, and probably rather unnervingly, into Crane's big, blue eyes.

"So, do ya wanna bust out, doc?"

Crane smiled for the first time in a long time.

"Yeah. Okay then."

The Joker's smile widened.

"Brilliant. Let's do it then."

He paused, and then looked down at his foot.

"Hey, uh, you got any experience with broken bones?"  
>"A bit, why?"<br>"Think I just broke my fucking toe." 

The Joker started to giggle, and Crane sighed. For all his experience, he really didn't know how to react.


	3. Chapter 3

It was quite simple really, and the Joker had shown Crane an impressive amount of makeshift weapons he'd hidden in various 'pads' of his padded cell. It really was a terrible idea to have those perfect pockets in reach of a psychopath, but right now, Jonathan was quite grateful for it.

He'd had the Joker's foot pressed into his face rather ungainly the previous night, to be confronted with a rapidly swelling and bruising couple of toes. He'd made the diagnosis that, yes, they were probably broken and fixed them up as best as he could before the Joker muttered his simplistic plan to him and then closed the gap up before anyone could notice it was there.

He did try to point out that while the Joker was limping he probably shouldn't be trying to escape the Arkham guards, but the reaction was a giggle and a few flicks to the toes coupled with a rather grotesque display of pulling one almost to the point of dislocation before Crane gave in and admitted that the point was proven and he could live with it.

The man was clearly unhinged, but he was strangely charismatic, and far better company than most of the clinically depressed patients who wailed and tried to hack themselves to bits with a piece of paper. That had been a nasty night…

_Charisma, Jonathan? You even know of such a thing?_

Jonathan rolled over in bed and tried to ignore the smirking voice in his head that insisted on popping up at the wrong times to annoy him. Like when he was trying to ignore the sound of depressing, out of tune singing. Scarecrow would do the shouting, and yet not the counselling afterwards.

But he'd had that argument before, so, without having any clue of the time he closed his eyes and tried to get some sleep, doing his level best to ignore the positively gleeful other half of his consciousness.

The Joker had managed to, somehow, miraculously, manufacture bombs from materials he'd stored from his meals (Crane still didn't know how, the meals were especially formed to be inert and completely inflammable). It was impressive really, a stroke of genius. He respected him for it, and so did Scarecrow, as he proved by trying to run his fingers over the weapons fashioned from, well, anything. Bits of sideboard, parts of plastic from their cups, he'd even managed to get some metal out of the bed frame and shaped it into a lethal looking blade. Crane had to fight Scarecrow back, and was convinced the Joker had witnessed this, a tiny flash of curiosity crossing his painted features before he turned back to the weapon to stare at it lovingly before promising it that it would have some action soon.

Crane had frowned at this, and the painted face had lit up even more.

"S'up Doc? Too heavy for you? Too, ah, _psychotic_? Hmm?"

Crane had laughed at this, feeling Scarecrow's mood lift in a 'tell him about me' kind of way. He didn't, and instead smirked, "No. Probably not."

It was early in the morning and most of the patients were drugged and comatose. The Joker knew this because he had known the time from the guards watch when he peered in the cell on his hourly rounds, and he'd been counting ever since.

He had freely admitted to never taking any of the medication they prescribed for whatever they decided he had that week, but they could never find what he did with the pills they gave him. They had tried to forcefully make him take them once, but from what Crane had heard, the Joker had came out of the room better than the guy who'd tried. From what Crane had heard, that guy had left in a body bag.

He believed every word.

They had decided between themselves to leave as soon as possible, early in the morning when the asylum was under-staffed and over-tired. Crane was pretty sure that since they were so set in their ways, they wouldn't have changed the codes, or over-rides, since he'd been brought back. Or at least he was hoping. Speed was of the essence and frankly, the Joker was already handicapped in the tight, completely 'safe' plimsoll shoes they'd been given (without laces, of course).

Crane heard the scrape of the tile being pulled back on the Joker's side of the wall. As he was pulling his tile away, he also heard the noise of the Joker bashing his way through the plaster in order to make a bigger hole. Crane rolled his eyes as the Joker scrambled through it, a bundle of hyperactive energy like a kid at Christmas.

"What?"  
>"You need to stop doing that?"<br>"Doing what?"

"Hitting walls with body parts. You'll do yourself some serious damage."

The Joker shrugged, and it was easy for Crane to see that he genuinely didn't care. He was fumbling at Crane's cell door with something, and he stepped forward for a closer look.

"I, ah, would get out of the way if you value your life…"

Crane frowned, reading this as a threat by the Joker, but the consciousness of Scarecrow stirred in order to push him back, and through the hole.

_He's bombing the door, dickhead._

Crane was still slightly confused when the Joker threw himself through the hole and as far into the corner as he could in the confined space.

"At least it will please you to know I'm not hitting things with body parts this time. Although, some body parts may be flung into the air if anyone's too close to that wall." He chuckled to himself at the thought, licking his lips again. "Oh, and I'd cover your ears if you value your hearing."

The Joker put his hands over his ears and closed his eyes, and Scarecrow forced a confused Jonathan to do the same. Seconds later the blast ripped through the cell and blew pretty much everything up in the vicinity.

Crane was thrown back into the frame of the Joker's bed, and his ears were filled with a ringing that seemed to shake his balance and make him completely dizzy. It was painful.

_Jonathan!_

He opened his eyes and stared at the Joker, who was talking to him, but couldn't make out the words. His ears slowly cleared and he staggered a few steps forward towards where he stood.

"…Everything but the door! I mean, what are the chances of that?" He giggled, and pushed the door back so that it landed on the floor with a crash that made Crane's ears throb. The Joker stepped over the ruins and into the chaos he'd created.

"C'mon then Doc, it's your time to shine!"


	4. Chapter 4

They power walked through the dark, damp corridors, the thought of getting out of there easing the oppressive atmosphere slightly. The Joker was practically skipping, and Jonathan wondered how he managed it with his broken foot and came to the conclusion that the pain just didn't register. Or, at least, he managed to turn it into something positive.

He started fidgeting when Crane punched in the keys for the first door. It bleeped and sung open, and he let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding. The Joker giggled in glee, and pressed on immediately through the halls.

A few explosions occurred behind them where he'd dropped some of the bombs in order to head off any followers. Crane pushed a desk up against the door, just to slow them down and ran after him, his footsteps echoing around him.

The Joker did begin to skip, at this point, and Crane had to increase his stride to keep up. He whirled around, eyes taking everything in, but giving no hint of it at all as he did so.

And then he began to sing.

"At night they would go walking 'til the breaking of the day, the morning is for sleeping..."

_Shut him up!_

Scarecrows voice made Crane jump. It hadn't been that loud in quite a while.

Why?  
><em>He<em>_'__ll__give__away__our__presence!_

I think that boats sailed…

"Through the dark streets they go searching to see God in their own way. Save the night time for your weeping."

The Joker slowed down, and Crane copied him. He was sniffing the air, staring around himself in a way that can only be described as predatory.

"Your weeping…"

He stopped and lunged suddenly behind a cabinet to where one of the younger psychiatrists was hiding.

"Hey, Johnny. Someone's sent the, ah, cavalry."

The boy was shaking and Crane recognised him vaguely. One of the students who started under his wing, probably. He can't say he paid them too much attention, and he wasn't planning to now, either, even though the boy was staring in his direction, pleading with his eyes.

The Joker looked down at him, his face invading the boy's personal space, making him try and fail to flinch backwards and cringe away from him.

"Ah-ah. I don't like spies. Do you, Johnny?"

Jonathan looked at the boy, who seemed to hold Crane as his last hope. Like he had influence over the Joker or something. Scarecrow started to laugh maliciously in his head, and Crane adopted a sombre expression.

"Can't say I do, no."

The Joker's smirk widened.

"Shame."

He slit the boy's throat and let him drop to the ground, blood spraying rather dramatically over the orange Arkham jumpsuit and the Joker's face and pooling on the floor as he bled to death in a symphony of gargles. The Joker walked through the blood and over to the next door while Crane stepped over it with a mild look of disgust, before punching the next key in.

The door swung open to a group of five men standing with tazers pointed in their direction. Crane gulped, the Joker suppressed a giggle.

"Well, what do we have here, boys?" an orderly asked, a smirk crossing his face to tell them that he'd enjoy whatever they were going to do to them.

"Um, well, I dunno. Probably nothing. I mean, this place is for _crazy_people, right? Maybe it's catching."

The Joker started to giggle again, and Crane half wished that he'd not antagonise them. Not when he was stood next to him, at least. He flicked the knife, the blade shining in the dim light, and then wiped the blood off it onto his sleeve. A couple of the men looked at each other and Scarecrow boiled to the surface, sensing the fear.

Jonathan only had to blink before two of the men were on the floor, one with his throat slit and the other with a serious head trauma from the Joker battering him into the wall. He spun round, snarling, and knocked the taser from the third mans hand, grabbing his head and smashing it against the fourth who was attempting to back away. Crane was astounded by the speed and the brutality of it all.

_Don't just stand around gawping, Jonathan!_

Scarecrow snapped him out of the semi-trance he was in so that he could see the last orderly crawling behind a doorway while the Joker attempted to break the ribs of one of the men on the floor using his feet. The taser was pointed straight at him.

Crane saw red as Scarecrow urged him on, and ran towards the man, kneeing him in the balls and sending him to the floor before using the taser he'd picked up to shock the man himself.

He smirked as the man writhed on the floor until his glee was pushed back by the Joker's sniggering and he broke out from the trance to look up. The Joker had a strange expression on his face which worried Jonathan slightly.

"C'mon, doc. We haven't got all day here!"

They ran for the door, only encountering one more psychiatrist whose eyes widened and body began to tremble as she saw the Joker passing. He stopped instantly and Crane skidded slightly to follow him.

"Ah, there are a few injured people back there. I think you should probably go check them out."

The woman opened and closed her mouth a few times, no words coming out, before the Joker backed her against the wall and put the knife to her throat.

"No, seriously. I'd go, now."

The woman scuttled off in the direction they had come from, and a shrill scream pierced the air. The Joker laughed again, maliciously, and skidded to a halt at one of the service doors. Crane punched in the code and threw open the door.

That was it.

They were out.

The air hit Crane with such force that he thought it was going to collapse his lungs. He thought it was cold in the asylum until he stepped out into the freezing air, wheezing and coughing into the night, his breath steaming and clouding in front of him. He tried to calm down, but didn't seem to be able to; the idea of him not being able to draw a breath panicking him to the point where he was hyperventilating, chilling his lungs more and make it harder to breathe. He'd had asthma as a kid, but hadn't needed to use an inhaler for a long time. He regretted not having one now because he was one hundred percent sure he was having an asthma attack.

_Stop it! You'll pass out and he'll leave you and we'll end up back inside!_

But Jonathan couldn't, and for every little bit he tried harder, he just made it more difficult. The Joker had finally noticed and was watching him with curiosity, but not attempting to help as he gasped and fell to the floor.

The sides of his vision started to turn black, and he thought he felt a hand on his shoulder but he wasn't sure because his brain was starved of oxygen and he couldn't fix it. He was going to die. Or worse, end up back inside.

If he could've cried, he would have done.

Instead, he lost consciousness.

* * *

><p><strong>I literally have no idea if Coldplay are big in the USA or not, but lets just count on the Joker having an obscure sense of music if they're not, yeah? Not so hard to believe...<strong>

***_Coldplay - Cemeteries of London_**


	5. Chapter 5

"Johnny?" The Joker had asked, smirking slightly as he walked over to the still figure of the other escapee. He thought he'd been kidding around, well, okay, no. he knew panic when he saw it, but really? He didn't have any medication on him or in his cell – he'd checked, and for a doctor not to carry medicine that could save him... well, that was pretty dumb. So why the sudden… attack?

The floodlights of Arkham lit up the area around them and the Joker crouched deeper behind the bins where they were hiding. He wasn't scared, he was positively exhilarated, but he didn't want to go back so soon. Or ever, for that matter. He prodded Crane in the side but he was well and truly out of it.

The Joker sighed and picked up a conveniently placed brick, hurling it at the floodlight. Yes, it would give them his vague position, but at least they couldn't see him. He stood up and went to move before looking back at Crane. If he left him, they'd find him and take him back to Arkham.

No reaction.

If he left him, Crane's crazy alter-ego might hunt him down. He looked at the fragile body on the floor and giggled.

No issue.

But, he had been a lot of help and it would be a shame to send him back to a place that would drive the most sane of men to the brink of despair. And he didn't have to have him hanging around, just drop him off. There was no indication Crane _wanted_to stick around anyway.

The Joker sighed and picked him up, placing him over his shoulders and carrying him away through the shadowy streets of Gotham. He didn't pass anyone, but even if he did, he doubted anyone but the Bat would try to take on someone wearing an Arkham suit, covered in blood, and, well, who was unmistakably the Joker.

He giggled at that, and lifted Crane up slightly further. He was light enough to barely exert any influence on the Jokers movements.

He wondered where the Bat was now, and what he could possibly be doing. You're as hunted as I am, now fella, int ya? You're out there, combing the rooftops but you can't _do_anything. Take me down, maybe, but I'm not an easy target. You can't help the police coz they think you killed the police. And all for the sake of that ridiculous Dent character. How the mighty fall…

But the Joker knew the truth, and if Batty wanted to protect Dent _that_much, maybe he should step in and, ah, mess that up a bit.

He had ideas rushing around his head, every building a target, every person a trap. He wanted to see Batman again. He missed the adrenaline from fighting someone who was _almost_at his level.

He took great pleasure in breaking Dent using that girl, and handing that over to Batman to deal with. He'd take greater pleasure in breaking Batman's nose…

But that would have to wait. He was weak, some of the blood was seeping out into his clothing, rather than in, and he was partially starved. He'd also quite like a drink, but he'd need to reach his warehouse and get changed first.

He also had an unconscious man over his shoulder, but that was the least of his worries.

The Joker reached an abandoned warehouse and was slightly miffed to find his hench clowns had bailed at the first opportunity, like rats from a sinking ship. He'd deal with them later; right now he wanted to feel more like himself. So he threw Crane down on to the sofa without much thought to his personal wellbeing.

Now, where did he leave his spare suit?


	6. Chapter 6

Crane's eyes opened slowly, a fog crowding his head and a sharp dizziness engulfing him. He breathed out and was relieved, but couldn't remember why he should be.

_You're a fucking idiot, Jonathan. _

"What?"  
><em>"You. You never listen. You went and passed out like a fucking weak, useless, <em>_child__."_

"I'm not weak. Or useless."  
><em>"Hah."<em>

"Johnny?"

Crane looked up to see the Joker stood, staring at him; his purple suit back on, his make-up refreshed.

"Who're you talking to?"

Shit. Had that been out loud? Scarecrow must be getting stronger…

"Urm…"

The Joker started laughing and sat down on an armchair opposite the sofa where Crane was lying.

"Don't worry, doc. I worked it out. Scarecrow isn't Jonathan, he's someone different. A part of you lurking in your brain fighting his way to the front and struggling for control." He giggled again, "Madness reigns, Johnny-boy, you're like me."

Jonathan wanted to argue, but the Joker was probably right.

"What happened?"  
>"Well, I'm no doctor, but it seems like you had an asthma attack."<p>

"Shit." 

There was a pause.

"Why didn't you leave me?"

The Joker shrugged.

"I dunno. I just do stuff. I don't need reasons."

It wasn't an ideal answer, but Crane was grateful nonetheless.

"Now, I've got some clothes in a box somewhere that might fit you, and, ah, I really want Chinese. And alcohol. You fancy it?"

Crane nodded.

"Good!"

The Joker kicked a box towards Crane and stood up.

"Although, you look fairly inconspicuous, so you'll have to go in and buy it."

He stopped and turned around again.

"What am I talking about? Lets just take a gun."

The Joker started laughing and continued towards the door while Jonathan yanked a t shirt over his head.


	7. Chapter 7

The Joker drove, scaring Jonathan half to death in the process. Crane was sent into the off license and managed to nick two crates of beer pretty successfully by taking out the door bell and waiting until the shop keeper vanished into the back room to answer the phone.

He got back into the car, throwing the crates onto the backseat and the Joker smirked.

"Nice one, Johnny boy."  
>"I am good at some things."<br>"Would never have expected it to be shoplifting!"  
>"Well…"<p>

The Joker put his foot on the accelerator and the car lurched forward, throwing Jonathan's head back to the headrest. He nervously twitched towards the seatbelt, but Scarecrow prevented him from putting it on.

They lurched to a stop and he _really _wished he had put the seatbelt on. It felt like all the air had been forced out of his lungs and crushed against the car window. The Joker checked his gun was loaded and put it back in his inside pocket.

"Coming?"

Jonathan looked at the place they'd stopped at. It was a fairly upmarket place, looked expensive, and definitely _not _a takeaway.

"I don't think they do take-out food."

The Joker sniggered.

"Well, no. Not usually, anyway."

He stepped out of the car, and Jonathan followed, wondering what on earth was going on.

Joker stepped into the restaurant and straight past the slightly harassed waiter who told them to wait while he found them a table. he made his way into the centre of the room with Jonathan following like a lost puppy before they managed to attract some attention.

Most people stared, but some gasped, and eventually one woman screamed.

"Ah, ah, ah," The Joker said, his voice fairly low but strong enough to make the whole restaurant stop causing chaos and look towards him. He headed towards the lady who had screamed first and grabbed hold of her face, his entering into her personal space and making her cringe.

"There's no need to scream, cupcake. All I want is a take-out."

One of the waiters, acting upon some sort of misguided sense of protocol crept over to Jonathan and whispered,

"Can you please tell your friend we don't do take-out?" into his ear.

Jonathan huffed a laugh, quiet enough for his personality, but loud enough for the Joker's ears to prick up, and for him to drop the woman mid-speech and stalk over to them.

"What?"  
>"They don't do take-out, apparently."<p>

It was the Joker's turn to start laughing, and he did so for quite a while before wiping away imaginary tears from his eyes and slinging his hand around the waiter's shoulders.

The man tensed, and froze. Jonathan was fairly impressed by the aura the Joker had around him. He hadn't actually _done _anything, and yet the whole restaurant was on red alert.

"Ah, okay fella. Maybe you misunderstood. Because I'm hungry and I've just gotten away from somewhere where the food is, well, terrible." He looked at Jonathan.

"I'm right, aren't I, Scarecrow?"  
>"Mhm."<p>

"See! So, I fancied Chinese, because Chinese is always welcome. And I heard about this great restaurant so I came here to it. And now you tell me I can't eat?"

"I just… we just don't…"

The Joker sighed, and his voice raised in irritation.  
>"Okay, let's make this simpler for you. Do you know who I am?"<p>

The waiter nodded.

"Good. Then you'll know that I'm a man who gets what he wants. Now, me and Dr Crane here are pretty damn hungry so I think you better shuffle off into the kitchen and bring me back some food before I start getting bored and, well, killing people. Johnny told me I had to stop hitting walls with body parts, but I don't think he'd mind so much if they weren't my own."  
>"Does sound better for you."<br>"See? Now, am I being clear enough?"

The waiter nodded.

"Then off you go."

The Joker pushed him towards the kitchen.

"Ah, sir?"  
>"What?"<br>"What would you like?"

The Joker shrugged.

"Just give us whatever's best. With noodles, and rice, and prawn crackers."

The waiter scurried off, leaving the rest of the people in the room sitting or standing stock still, terrified to so much as breathe. After ten minutes or so of sitting on a table, occasionally muttering to Jonathan, the Joker got bored.

"Pfft, whats wrong with this lot, Johnny? You'd think a maniac had just entered the room or something!"

He laughed, and wandered towards one of the tables.

"Hey. What you eating?"

The man pushed his plate towards the Joker, who waved him off.

"I'm fine. Expecting a kinda _large_ meal. So, ah, you wanna tell us what we've been missing while Gotham's finest have been trying to drug me and Dr Crane has been getting his mind back?"

The man opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, but said nothing.

"No?"

He sighed again and got to his feet, beginning to pace between the tables like some sort of angry predator while Jonathan watched on to make sure that no one was doing anything stupid.

"Anyone?"

He looked around.

"No one. No one wants to talk to us."

He stopped dead at a table and pressed his face to one of the diners.

"Why so serious?"

The kitchen door opened and the waiter walked out and back over to them, the relief that everyone was still alive evident on his face. He handed the food to the Joker, who smirked at him and turned to leave.

Jonathan had noticed a man placing his mobile phone back into his pocket, and coughed.

The Joker placed the food down and spun to face Crane, who pointed at the man.

"Hmm. So I've been in Arkham for a few months, right? And while I've been in there, my whole world seems to have spun upside down. My henchmen have run off, Batman is being hunted for being a murderer, I have to _threaten _people to get food, and, I can't even trust someone to sit for fifteen minutes without calling in the cops."

He walked over to the man, who had turned completely white, and placed his hand on his shoulder.

"I don't blame you, I, ah, know that these scars cause a little bit of… upset. Don't look so worried. You wanna know how I got them? Yeah?" He licked his lips and scars, the man in front of him following his every move with his eyes.

"Well, I got myself into a situation similar to the one that you're in yourself. Where a _bad _man walked into somewhere he shouldn't have been and I, ah, told the cops where he was. He got arrested, but he wasn't charged and caught up with me when _I _was somewhere _I _shouldn't have been, with a lady friend. Now, he offered me the choice – he could carve her face, or mine. And she was beautiful, so she stood and watched while he took a knife to my face. She left, soon after of course."

He sighed, and his eyes flicked to the young lady sat next to him. she seemed to be fairly air-headed, the type of girl that hangs round rich men to get her face in the paper. She half smiled at the Joker nervously, and he smirked back.

"Pretty, like your girl. But, you did betray me and so I'll have to do something back. So, make your choice."

The man looked to the woman and gulped.

"Her."

Her eyes widened, and she gasped.

"Say that again, so that we can hear."

The man swallowed, "I choose her."

The woman started to panic, "Oh my God, no. How could you?"

The Joker grabbed her hair and placed his knife into her mouth. She was crying hysterically, and was whimpering into his palm. Jonathan was beginning to get nervous, even raising an army to bring down the Joker wouldn't take much longer. But how could you tell the Joker to stop messing about and hurry up?

"You see, sweetheart, I was braver than he was. I wouldn't want to mess up a pretty little face for the sake of my own. This is why you shouldn't put _money_ at the top of your priority list. I mean, what does money do, anyway?"

He took the knife out of her mouth and she let out a sigh of relief, sobbing quietly into a napkin. The Joker walked towards the man, eyes narrowed, before slitting his throat as he walked past, completely nonchalantly.

The blood spray managed to miss him, but sprayed over the already traumatised woman, who screamed, starting the cycle of fear and chaos all over again. Scarecrow stirred.

"Pass on the message!"

He shouted, before picking up the food and walking out with Jonathan at his heels and the sound of sirens closing in.

They got into the car and the Joker sped off, abandoning the car by the docks and throwing a match into it, cackling as it caught flames.

They ate their food by the docks, shivering slightly against the cold, the beer warming their blood slightly. They talked about things that didn't really matter and ate in a companionable way until all of the food was gone.

"Well, Johnny, it's, ah, been nice."

Jonathan looked up at the Joker, who was scrambling to his feet, swallowing his mouthful of beer. They hadn't been around each other for too long, but he'd kinda got used to the Joker's presence and charisma.

_And threat, _Scarecrow added. _You like being around someone physically intimidating. It makes up for your shortfalls._

Jonathan ignored the voice and got to his feet himself, holding out his had.

"It has."

The Joker shook it, and smiled, almost genuinely.

"I'll see you around, maybe?"

He nodded, and smiled. And then the Joker walked off.

So it was back to normal life, for Jonathan. Starting with him finding a flat.

The Joker, well, he was hunting bats.


	8. Chapter 8

The Joker could sense that Batman was there before he showed up. He'd been waiting in the freezing fucking cold rain for over an hour since he'd detonated a pretty impressive explosion in a fairly crowded public area, and he'd just _known _that it would help Batty to find his position.

He was pacing back and forth in the most _obvious _place in the world and he was **bored **of waiting. Where _was _he?

He started to hum as the rain seeped through his clothing and on to his skin, making all of the hairs on his body stand up and his muscles to start trembling.

'_Everybody loves antics,_

_The mad shit that happens at random,_

_Well this is the anthem for that then…'_

He _felt _the Batman land behind him and adrenaline instantly started pounding through his system. He stood completely still, staring out over the city, Batman doing the same behind him.

And then he started to giggle.

'_We're bound to be the main attraction.'_

He spun on his heel, greasepaint running down his face making the black around his eyes ever more prominent, the red smearing across his lips and scars as he grinned as though he was confronting an old friend. Someone who he'd missed terribly.

And in a way, he was.

"Batty! It's been _too _long!"

He almost skipped towards Batman, who continued to stand still like a statue. It was a tactic he could recognise as one for intimidation.

But the Joker didn't _get _intimidated.

"So I, ah, hear that you killed a load of cops?" He said, the glee evident in his voice. "I mean, I'm impressed. Although, you can't lie to me. I _know _you didn't do it."

He giggled again.

"In fact, I'm a little, ah, upset. I mean, you've managed to take the credit for the landslide that _I _started. We're both being blamed, and yet, neither of us _touched _those cops."

He sighed.

"Why'd you do it, Batty? Thought you were in it for the glory? Hmm? And instead, you've become Gotham public enemy number one! And what do _I _get? Arkham hasn't even admitted that they, ah, misplaced me yet."

Batman growled, and took a step forward. The Joker darted out of the way and started to laugh.

"You've let yourself go in the few months you haven't had anyone to chase. Why is that, hmm?"

Batman snapped. _Bruce_ snapped.  
>"You know <em>why<em>!"  
>"Do I? Is it because I caused a bit of havoc? Or is it because I tried to get people to destroy each other? No?"<p>

The Joker sighed, "This isn't about _Harvey _is it? I mean, that wasn't _really _my fault."

Batman's mouth twitched.

"I mean, it was. But he was corrupted already. You can't keep someone like that at the top. I actually did you a favour. You'd've had to take him out eventually."

"People aren't born like that. It takes a push. You _pushed _him over the edge. You made him what he was."

The Joker shrugged, "I was trying to be modest. And yet I _still _haven't got there, have I? _Please _don't tell me it was because of that whinging little girl… what was her name? Rachel?"

Batman growled and lunged forward, hitting the Joker in the face, straight in the nose. The Joker recoiled slightly, feeling the warmth of the blood start to flow down his face and into him mouth. He didn't think it was broken, just numb, and he started to laugh.

"Oh my god, it was! Little Rachel Dawes had hold of the big bad Bat's heart. That's hilarious!"  
>"Don't say her name!"<p>

Batman hit him again, knocking him to the floor with a jolt that he took mainly on the hip. He rolled over and kicked upwards, tripping Batman over, before stumbling back to his feet. A jolt through his side indicated that the cut he got in Arkham had just split open again and his leg felt weird.

Batman was almost on his feet, so he aimed for the shins and knocked him down again.

"You know, you wanna be a bit more _careful_. I believed it, when everyone thought Harvey was the Batman. Because, after all, he was gonna marry her before her unfortunate, um, _accident_."

Batman growled and lunged at him again, punching anywhere he could reach before the Joker managed to wriggle out of his grasp, plunging a knife under his armour. Enough to hurt but not kill. The way they rolled.

They staggered apart, panting. The Joker was tiring, Batman could tell. He was losing of blood and he wasn't as big as Bruce was, anyway. Even less so with nearly being starved in Arkham for three or four months. He couldn't keep going much longer, so he was bringing out the knives and backing off.

Bruce didn't think the Joker cared whether he lived or not, not really. But he was also certain that the Joker was the type of person to want to take him down with him if he did. He knew he was a fixation for the man. That he had some strange belief that they were destined to fight together. That they needed each other. The unstoppable force and immovable object together in an eternal battle.

He'd stopped joking and had a dangerous look in his narrowed eyes.

The Joker was weighing up the situation. He was hurt more, he was lacking energy, his leg felt like it was gonna fall off, and if he was gonna die, then they would both have to. He had always stuck by the truth in Batman's one rule. But he didn't know if that was still in effect…

They had to be together though. It was the way it was. He wasn't going to let that slip away.

"In fact, I could still imagine you to be him. But, you have a full face…"

He laughed.

"You know, I did you a favour. I rid you of your one weakness. Sooner or later someone would twig that you kept rushing to her rescue and look back into her past to somehow work out who you might be… She didn't have a particularly long list of boyfriends, you know? Narrow it down to find someone rich enough to carry out this little façade and maybe, just maybe, work out who you are…"

Bruce's face fell, and the Joker started laughing manically.

"You know who I am?"

The Joker waved it off, still chuckling to himself.

"Batty, I don't _care_."

And then a bomb went off behind Batman, clouding his vision and knocking him sideways, and by the time he got his mind back, the Joker had run off. Batman growled, he needed to know whether he was going to be killed in his bed, and stumbled in the direction of the blood splatter.

The Joker had jumped off the roof and hit the ground _really _badly. His already weird feeling leg crumpled when he tried to stand up, pain searing through him. He tried to get to his feet again, and once again fell to the floor.

"Fuck."

An arm grabbed him and pulled him behind a skip. He growled, about to lash out when he recognised the stance of the man with him and relaxed. The Joker slid down the wall, conveniently covered by cardboard boxes, sweating from the pain and trying not to outwardly whimper as Jonathan shushed him.

He'd somehow managed to pull him back without leaving a blood trail in their wake, and so it was just a case of waiting for the Batman to go past before he sorted out the mess that was panting beside him.

His eyes raked over the Joker's body. He seemed to have taken a bath in blood, and had a lot smeared across his face. Some of the greasepaint on his nose was missing, and a lot of it was running due to the cold water dripping from his hair. He'd been punched in the face then. That's probably where the blood was from.

But then, that had stopped, and he was still pooling. There was too much for it to be from his clothes, so he was injured somewhere else. It was a shame the paint was on because Jonathan couldn't see the extent of the damage. The Joker looked clammy though, so he'd imagine that he was pale with real black circles under his eyes beneath the make-up.

Jonathan tried to find the wound without touching. The Joker couldn't walk, so that was the first place he'd guess at, but his clothes didn't seem to be too saturated there. He crawled over and touched the leg while the Joker feebly tried to swat him away.

"Do you want to die from blood loss behind a skip in a damp alley?"

The Joker glared at him, but stopped trying to push him away.

"Good. Now tell me where the bloods coming from. You must know, surely."

The Joker gulped, and spoke from between his teeth.

"Stomach."

Jonathan cringed inwardly and moved the Joker's coat to one side and lifted up his shirt. There was a pretty nasty wound there, and his first thought was that Batman had stabbed him with a knife. But once he touched it, felt the heat coming from it and, well, smelt the puss he came to the conclusion that the wound had been reopened. He also noticed one of Batman's little stingers wedged between the Joker's ribs, but ignored it since it wouldn't start bleeding until he took it out. His attention returned to the jagged gash in his stomach. He looked up at the Joker's face and frowned, placing his hand on his forehead. The Joker tried to pull back, half snarling. He was clammy, but burning up. Jonathan wanted to punch him for being so fucking _useless_. Instead, he took a deep breath and calmed himself down.

"Okay, that's infected. How long have you had it?"  
>"Night we escaped. One of the orderlies… Had a knife. That woman."<p>

"Why didn't you say anything!"

"Wasn't… too bad."  
>"Not too bad? You're bleeding out all over!"<br>"Well stop it!"

Jonathan almost growled before ripping part of his shirt off and pressing it to the wound. It didn't hold up too well, and he was soon covered in blood too.

"For fucks sake! Are you on warfarin?"  
>"What?"<p>

"Why won't you stop bleeding!"

The Joker laughed softly.

After five more minutes the bleeding seemed to be stemming, but the Joker was almost delusional by this point. Jonathan didn't know whether this was the infection racing through the very little blood he had left, or whether it was solely to the blood loss. He felt like crying again. This was so much hard work.

"Did you feel ill or light headed before the blood loss?"

No response.

"Joker! Seriously! Did you?"

"I scared Batty," he said, and started wheezy giggles. "I know his secret."  
>Jonathan decided to give up on that train of thought; he didn't have anything that could treat it to hand anyway. He'd get some food and antibiotics into him when they got to his flat.<p>

"That's nice. Now, what's wrong with your leg?"  
>"Dunno. Won't move."<p>

Crane sighed, 'I'm gonna have to touch his pelvis'. He shuddered, and heard Scarecrow laughing at how uncomfortable the thought made him. He reached out and felt upwards from the Joker's ankle. Nothing _felt _broken. He prodded at the Joker's hip, and he hissed in pain.

Shit. He'd dislocated his thighbone.

He tried to go back to his vague medical training and what to do if someone had a femur dislocation. He'd never had to deal with it before, but he imagined it'd be pretty easy to pop back in. Easy, and really, really painful. He also knew that it was a fairly long rehab process, and he was sure the Joker wasn't going to be up for that.

He was just going to have to do it.

Jonathan's mouth was dry as he turned back to the Joker. He was sweating slightly, and his hands had started shaking.

"Okay, you've dislocated your hip. And, in order to get us out of here I'm going to have to put it back in."

"There's gonna be a but here, isn't there?"

"I've never done it before. It's painful to the point of anaesthetic usually being used and I don't even have a co-codamol to hand."

"I'll deal with it."

"Well, you're going to have to. And when we do, you're going to have to help me get you home. I can't pick you up."  
>"Are you saying I'm fat?" The Joker asked, before laughing at Crane's expression. "Oh, take yourself less seriously."<p>

Scarecrow took over for a second and rammed the joint back into place. The Joker wasn't expecting the pain to be as intense as it was and he screamed fairly loudly. Scarecrow smirked, riding on the pain, before Jonathan clawed his way back into the forefront.

"Okay," he said, breathlessly. "That really fucking hurt."  
>"Can you move it?"<p>

The Joker bent his leg, wincing, and so Jonathan dragged him to his feet.

"Come on then."

Jonathan dragged the Joker through the side streets, trying his best to avoid any people lingering in the darkness. He was finding it hard enough to support the Joker's weight without needing to start a fight or get into any unnecessary running situations. The Joker was staggering along, dropping in and out of consciousness, pretty much a dead weight, and he really hoped that the landlady wouldn't be lurking when he put his key in the door.

He managed to pull the Joker up the stairs and deposited him on the bed, thinking that the blood would be easier to get off the sheets than the chairs. Jonathan then grabbed the gun out of the Joker's pocket and left to get some drugs.

Crane walked into the pharmacy, covered in the Joker's blood and waving the gun. He walked straight up to the counter and demanded Timentin, right there and then. The pharmacy assistant went into the back and handed him the vials he asked for. He also demanded saline solution and some needles and tubes. He then ran out and back to the flat with sirens wailing in the distance.

When he reached the flat, the Joker was laid out on the bed where he'd left him. Stage three blood loss combined with a ridiculously preventable blood infection seemed to make him incapable of doing anything. He didn't even fight back when Jonathan took off his shirt and started to clean his arm of blood.

He'd've loved to be able to see the colour in his face, since that would have made things far easier, but didn't have the time (or the nerve) to remove the paint. Instead, he strung up two drips, one to put the saline in, and the other to administer the antibiotic. Once he'd managed, he sat back on his heels on the bed and wiped the sweat from his brow using a shaky hand.

He then pulled out some alcohol wipes and wiped the surrounding area from the infected tissues in an attempt to get some cleanliness back into the system. The Joker's skin was bruised and scarred under the blood. He then looked up at the bat shaped stinger stuck in the Joker's ribs, placed his hand on it, and yanked it out.

The Joker gasped and sat up, his hand reaching for Jonathan's throat.

"Shh, shh. It's okay." Jonathan said, shakily. "I'm making it better."

The Joker's eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed back into the pillows. Crane let out the breath he'd been holding, then picked up the needle and thread and started sewing.

When he was done, he crawled off the bed and walked into the bathroom to wash off all of the blood. Once the water ran clear instead of pink, he washed his face and went to the kitchen to make a hot drink and something to eat. He expected to be sleeping on the sofa that night.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Another obscure British track again. This time, Rizzle Kicks - Round Up**


	9. Chapter 9

The Joker's mind swam back into consciousness slowly. The first thing he registered was pain, the second, darkness. The third was that he was lying on a bed in a fairly chilly room.

With that he sat up as quickly as he could, his heart starting to flutter in a way that made his head spin. He blinked a couple of times to try and rid himself of the mist and then reopened his eyes slowly.

He looked around, every move slow and deliberate. He wasn't in Arkham, that much was certain. But the dull throb in the joint of his elbow drew his attention to the makeshift drips, so he must be with someone who knew what they were doing.

What were they doing anyway?

The Joker looked down at his chest and sighed, most of the night returning to him. Stitches in his ribs; where Batman's last attempt at bringing him down had it home. Raw, inflamed wound on his stomach; where that _bitch_ from Arkham had slashed him with a knife when he'd walked up to her. Leg, well, that was just hurting like fuck. He vaguely remembered how much it had hurt when someone put it back in. Face pain; punched in the face.

What a night!

A noise from the living room made him reach for a weapon. He was tensed for a fight, until Jonathan Crane walked in and he lay his head back against the pillows.

"You're awake?"  
>"Ah-hah."<br>"How are you feeling?"  
>"Like shit, if I'm honest."<br>"You want some painkillers?"  
>"Nah, I'll survive."<p>

Crane shrugged.

"You've been out for 3 or 4 days, slipping in and out of consciousness. You dislocated your hip and had a pretty severe infection but I think I'm fixing it. I hope I am, anyway."  
>"Ah, thanks."<br>"No problem. I had to wash your face. Most of the paint can came off anyway but I needed to see your skin tone and that way is easiest. Sorry."

The Joker shrugged, "What for? You saved my life, a bit of paint doesn't matter."

"Well, I had a flat, you needed somewhere to recover. My landlady thinks we're together, mind, but you know."

The Joker started to giggle, "Together as in…?"  
>Crane blushed, "Yeah."<p>

"Hah. That's funny."

"Kinda. She also thinks I'm Irish and that you've had food poisoning. Can you do any accents? We don't want Batman turning up while we're in our beds."

The Joker giggled, and a strange look passed over his face.

"At least, I don't… what's the deal with you two, anyway?" 

The Joker laughed again.

"We're the same."

And he wouldn't say any more than that.


	10. Chapter 10

The Joker got better, eventually. It felt, to Jonathan, like it had taken forever, but really it had only been a couple of weeks. When he was, in fact, better, they were sat on the sofa watching some ridiculous daytime television show and Jonthan turned to him.

"Hey, you know what day it is?"  
>"Er, Saturday?"<br>"Yeah, but… the day?"  
>"No?"<br>"It's the 23rd December."  
>"And?"<p>

Jonathan looked up at the Joker.

"And, it's Christmas in two days."

The Joekr sighed and tore his eyes away from the tv to look back at Jonathan.

"And?"

"And, well, I haven't spent it with anyone in a while."

He muttered his last sentence, and his ears turned slightly red. The Joker looked at him out of the corner of his eye.

"Me neither, Johnny. Sorta loses meaning over the years, doesn't it?"

….

The next night and the Joker was almost completely back to his normal self.

"We should go out. To the pub or something."

Jonathan frowned, "Why?"  
>The Joker shrugged, "Just want to."<p>

He'd spent over an hour in the bathroom and Jonathan was about to give in and just piss in a cup when the door opened.

"Fucking took your time," Jonathan growled, and stumbled past the Joker, clutching at his sides and into the bathroom. The Joker rolled his eyes and leant back against the wall until the sounds of Jonathan's piss stream had died out about 3 minutes later and the tap began to run. He was staring at his nails when Jonathan walked out again, contented.

"What the hell were you doing in there, anyway?" he asked, wandering over to the table that they were using to store all their aftershave and picking a shirt up from the kitchen floor. He had no idea how it had gotten there, but he'd jut decided to go with the flow and just use whatever seemed clean. Jonathan gave it a sneaky sniff, and, when he was sure it wasn't disgusting threw it over his shoulders and started to try and drag a comb through his long and pretty curly hair.

He needed a haircut, but he didn't dare ask the Joker.

When he got no answer, he turned round to face the Joker and was slightly surprised to be confronted with a man wearing, well, normal clothes. Dark jeans, boots and a purple t shirt to be exact. With the Joker's face being as carved up as it was, he didn't expect the man to try and, well, blend in.

And that's when his eyes were drawn to the Joker's face which, remarkably, were scar-less.

"Woah."

The Joker looked up from his hand.

"What?"  
>"You've done a good job on those."<p>

The Joker laughed, bitterly.

"I haven't always wanted to show them off, you know."

Jonathan had never really considered a time when the Joker wasn't the Joker, and as a consequence had never imagined the man in front of him being able to effectively cover them up.

"But why tonight?"

The Joker laughed.

"I don't wanna draw, ah, unnecessary attention to us, Johnny. I don't think I'm up to fighting random strangers yet. My reaction times are still fairly slow…"

Jonathan repressed the thought that the Joker's 'slow' reaction times were still probably ten times faster than his own in a fight.

"So, the idea of a quiet drink seems kinda… drawing. Especially with my buddy on Christmas Eve."

Jonathan smiled.

"Okay then, lets go."

They headed back home a few hours later when the shops were closing. Joker gave Jonathan a piggyback up the street, staggering himself, while singing in their respective accents.

They got to the door and spent five minutes trying to open the door before their landlady opened it for them.

"Nice night, boys?"  
>"Ah, yeah. Thanks," the Joker choked out in an Australian accent. "Did we wake you?"<br>"Oh, no, I was cooking the turkey."  
>"At 3 in the morning?"<br>"I couldn't sleep. Never do on Christmas. Anyway, you'll catch your death out there. Get yourselves to bed!"

They staggered up the stairs and collapsed into bed.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Fairly OOC but c'mon, it's Christmas. Normal service will resume tomorrow.**


	11. Chapter 11

Jonathan woke in the middle of the night with a dry mouth and a vague sense that it was Christmas day. He was in his pants and facing the wall, and when he turned over, the Joker's face was pressed into the pillows beside him, his hair actually dirty blond rather than green fanning out on the pillow and his face make-up free.

Jonathan was getting used to seeing the other man without the greasepaint; in fact, he was probably more used to seeing the Joker without the paint than he was with it, now. He supposed he should probably feel privileged. He figured that's just what happened when you lived with someone, though; you saw all sides of them. Even the side when you're too drunk to push apart the two beds you've been leaving together to make a double in case anyone (aka the Bat) came to double check their charade and fall asleep together.

Normally Jonathan would be slightly awkward about this, but right now he couldn't bring himself to care. Inside, he threw his legs over the side and, avoiding the Joker's mess, made his way into the bathroom for a glass of water and a piss.

On his way back, he couldn't help but notice the pattern of fairly deep and badly healed scars on his back and couldn't help but wonder how the Joker had managed to survive on his own this far.

But then again, not all of the scars could be from Batman, some of them too old and too, well, violent looking. Some of them must have come from before. The life he'd either forgotten, or pushed into the back of his mind, never to return to the forefront. A lot of them, by the healing pattern and thick scar tissue had been deep and almost definitely infected. The man should have an immune system strong enough to fight off ebola, by now.

He'd be fascinating to study, but Jonathan couldn't bring himself to even try. His response to the Fear toxin would be incredible, but he was too concerned about the danger that would put himself in even to suggest it.

And the obsession with Batman... What was that about? Was it the fight? That'd he'd found an equal? Was it the pain? The thrill of being caught? The idea of corruption? Or was it something more?

Love, maybe.

He went cold with the realisation that he was in bed with a potentially schizophrenic psychopath, who, in a grasps of a drunken nightmare could wake up and stab him with one of those knives on his bedside and leave him for dead, waking up covered in his blood and start giggling while he poked at his cold, rigor mortis set corpse.

That, and the fact that he might _love_ the Batman.

Jonathan didn't know what was more disturbing. Scarecrow wasn't giving any indication that he was awake and willing to help.

"Hey, Johnny?"

Jonathan jumped, before narrowing his eyes to stare through the darkness at the Joker, who appeared not to have moved from his position on the bed, covers halfway down his back and leg dangling over the side.

"Uh, yeah?"

"You're staring. It's off-putting. Go to sleep."

Jonathan was slightly flummoxed at how the Joker had managed to know that he was staring even through the darkness while his head was buried in two pillows, but, he rationalised that he could have looked up while he was lost in thought.

Either way, he was slurring. He probably wouldn't remember any of this in the morning.

"Yeah, I'm going to. Was just getting some water."

The Joker grunted, and Jonathan got back under the covers, facing the wall, not the silhouette of the man he was pretending to be shagging. That idea alone was enough to make his blood run cold again… Imagine his tongue being anywhere near _those _teeth.

"Happy Christmas, Johnny."

He jumped again, sure the Joker was doing this on purpose in order to get some sort of cheap laugh. But he remained still, so if he was laughing, he was doing so silently, and that wasn't like him at all.

"Yeah, happy Christmas."

The Joker's breathing eased out into a sleeping pattern while Jonathan lay still, lost in thought, until he too drifted off to sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

They managed to make it through Christmas without any fights, and without upsetting the neighbourhood _too_ much with the drunken noise. There was an incident when the Joker had gotten bored and tried to upset Jonathan by making overly loud sex noises in order to 'keep up appearances', but Jonathan managed to hold his cool and continue reading the paper.

He also had to hold in his mortification the next morning when the landlady confronted them both in the hallway, much to the Joker's amusement.

But he was rapidly getting bored of sitting around. He was used to a certain level of violence in his life and no minor niggling of Crane was helping him to fill that void. He was spending more and more time sharpening blades and stabbing them into tabletops, and he was getting twitchy – pacing at night rather than sleeping, staring out of the window and muttering while he thought Jonathan was sleeping. He couldn't rein him in with alcohol and takeaway food for much longer, but he was convinced the Joker wasn't strong enough to go out into the hideous weather for another Batman face off. His toes were still swollen, his hip was still stiff, and his wounds were healed but could still easily burst with a heavy blow.

And, Jonathan was hiding something from him. He'd gotten lucky that the Joker was flaky and, unless drunk, couldn't last longer in front of the TV than an episode of Pinky and the Brain. He'd almost lasted through Pirates of the Caribbean once, but had went for a piss and vanished for the twenty minutes that were left. It was a ridiculously long film, though. He loved cartoons, and wasn't interested in the news unless he was on it, saying it was all just pointless gossip and _lies _about the Bat. He equally had passed up Jonathan's offer of reading the paper after him so many times he'd just stopped asking, preferring to immerse himself in comics, saying they were 'more real'.

See, the thing that was more and more coming to Jonathan's attention were the news stories not relating to the Batman being a criminal, but the Catwoman that he was stalking around, preventing the petty theft she was committing – nothing major, no death and limited destruction – just theft. And the Joker would _not _approve of her taking up his time. Especially as she didn't seem to be doing anything to _warrant _him following her around. The jealousy would burn the Joker up and God only knows what he'd do.

That and another bloke who was wandering around with tubes plugged into himself containing something called 'Venom' that Crane would _love _to get his hands on to play with. He was a big bastard, though, calling himself Bane and bouncing around the place knocking people and buildings to shit, and getting out of tight spots _way _too quickly.

Crane had tracked him down to a shipping container and planned to go in and get a sample of this 'Venom' so that he could analyse it and see what the hell it was and how it was enhancing him. He didn't seem particularly bright, brawn over brain and that, so he didn't expect it to be an issue getting past him.

It had gotten dark outside while he sketched plans of the many ways he could get past the fences and defence and break into the container. He had a bound book, ever the scientist, and written plans for the tests he was to perform on it. He'd managed to set up a lab in the airing cupboard, just to keep it out of the way of wandering fingers – especially since he'd been brewing some fear toxin since he'd lost his supplies, and was determined to set out in the next few days to gather the Venom sample.

He was excited, for the first time in a long time, and Scarecrow was bristling in the back of his mind.

A door slammed behind him, knocking him out of his trance and making him jump and slam the book shut. The Joker sauntered out of the bedroom and stopped dead.

"I thought you were out. It's been, ah, fairly quiet in here for the last few hours."  
>"No, no," he said, stashing the book under a cushion. The Joker narrowed his eyes, becoming suspicious.<p>

"What's that?"

"What?"  
>"That book."<br>"Oh, just, stuff. Fear toxin stuff, y'know."

"Right…"

Jonathan looked around, his face calming down and becoming less flushed enabling him to wear a slightly less guilty expression. The Joker was in his suit with all of his make-up on. Now Jonathan's eyes narrowed.

"Going somewhere?"

"Ah, yeah. Just out, you know. Some business to take care of."

"What kind of business?"

"A meeting with an old friend…"  
>"Batman."<br>"Well, yeah. I mean, it _has_ been too long."

"Be careful."  
>"Always am, cupcake."<p>

The Joker winked and headed to the door as Jonathan's stomach sank and churned at the same time. He just hoped the streets were clear of Cat's and strong-men. He also hated the leery wink and 'cupcake' title that the Joker had slipped into using. Maybe they _were_ spending too much time together. Or maybe he was just trying to make Jonathan feel awkward. Probably the second one.

The Joker paused and spun round.

"You too, by the way."

Jonathan snapped out of the second trance he'd managed to sink into that night.

"What?"  
>"Whatever you're… planning. Don't wound yourself too badly. I'm not as good at recognising and administering blood replacements as you are."<p>

Jonathan laughed, wondering why he didn't just _tell_ the Joker about the Venom (missing out Bane's potential to attract the Bat, of course).

"I've got some Toxin, I can hold my own."

"Oh, is that what that is in the cupboard?"  
>"Er, yeah. Don't touch it."<br>"Are you sure it works?"  
>"Yes, why?"<br>"I just… had a sniff. Like you do."  
>"And?"<br>"And nothing. It didn't work."

Jonathan frowned, he'd tested it on himself, and it definitely worked.

"Anyway, I'm off. I have a date with a Bat-man."

He turned on his heel and walked out of the door, leaving Jonathan to frantically scribble the Joker's reaction down on a spare piece of paper before he picked up his mask and a bottle of Toxin and an aerosol converter for the bottle and headed out the door himself.


	13. Chapter 13

Gotham was a dump, really, and the Narrow's was the epitome. The Joker headed down the metal stairs of their flat and into the darkness beyond. It was a cold and dark night, clear skies and no moon, the stars blocked out by the light pollution that seemed to offer more to the sky than it did to the people below.

The Joker wandered calmly, breathing in the cold air and listening to the sounds of the people in the alleys beside him, scrabbling round and injecting substances into their bloodstream or grunting against a wall while someone fucked them into a world of STI's and grazed backs. Sometimes they'd think they were in love, most of the time they didn't care. Even at 10pm, the sounds of drunks shouting and fighting, singing and falling over. Bins clattering as stray animals fought for meals in the same sites that the drunks would piss.

It was all very human, and all very pointless.

Nothing mattered, really, other than the Bat and their endless fight. And when you looked past the grime and scum of Gotham, it was a beautiful place. Or maybe it was the dirt that made it that way. His heart was filled with something akin to joy as he walked the streets, the people who noticed him shying away as soon as they saw his face, hurrying past with downturned eyes or trying to slink into the shadows. He should cut some of them up, really, but he had bigger things in mind. And a couple of carved and sobbing mob-wannabes weren't gonna be enough to gain Batsy's attention.

So he kept searching, whistling softly and twirling a knife.

He felt like blowing something up.

In fact, yeah, maybe he would.

….

Crane pulled on the mask and became Scarecrow, more so he could travel undisturbed than anything else. He wasn't exactly physically intimidating, and without the mask he didn't strike anything resembling fear into any of the people clutching to the darkness, waiting for someone to pass by, an easy target to mug some money from, someone wearing a suit and glasses with a small frame and little chance against a bulky addict.

The mask was a memory from the past, the people who feared him, the Toxin causing hallucinations of terror. People were immune or at least inoculated now - well, the people who could afford it – to the effects of the Toxin, but he'd adapted it slightly, just to make sure his chances were right. But really, the mask did enough.

He strode through the streets, feeling slightly foolish wearing the mask for the first time in so long, but also freer than he had since he was on that horse. He wondered if that was how the Joker felt when he put on his make-up.

Scarecrow bubbled to the surface for a couple of seconds, smelling the air, trying to taste the fear of the people rushing home, avoiding the darkness and all that lurked in it. The sex and the drugs and the general level of grime that hung to the puddles in between the cracked concrete and flickering streetlamps. He shouldn't fit in here, an educated man like him, but he'd sunk to the depths of criminal, and criminals _belonged_ in Gotham. Super-criminals ever more now that the Bat was fluttering. Gotham _attracted _them.

And the people who knew who he was gave him a wide berth. Those who didn't, well, they kept away once they saw his mask. It gave him a thrill.

Crane made it to the shipping yard and hopped over the wire fence without incident. He wasn't as weak as he looked, and popped the unguarded door of the container easily.

As his eyes adjusted to the lack of light inside, his heart almost stopped; the whole thing was filled with barrels and, popping the top of one, they were all filled with a runny green liquid which smelled, frankly, vile.

Under the mask, Crane's face split into a wide smirk.

…..

The Joker stood just beyond the multi-story car park in a place he could observe without injury. He giggled, and started to hum again.

He started to count down in his head from sixty.

This would be… incredible.

…

Crane had gathered a sample of the Venom into a plastic sample bottle and stowed it back in his jacket. He was twisting the lid back on, and so didn't notice the shadow flicker behind him.

It was Scarecrow who did notice, and put Jonathan's system into alert. He stood up straight, still facing the wall as the doorway was blocked by a huge figure. His finger twitched against the aerosol head of the Fear Toxin bottle in his jacket pocket, and he slowly turned to face the doorway.


	14. Chapter 14

_60, 59, 58, 57…_

Scarecrow stared directly into Bane's eyes, his bright blue never wavering. It seemed as though eternity had passed in the few moments it took for Bane to size him up and gauge his treat level at 'minimal'.

That was his first mistake.

_40, 39, 38, 37…_

He growled, and took a step towards the container, his huge frame filling the doorway. Scarecrow took in the tubes buried into his flesh, filled with the green substance Jonathan was so obsessed with.

_30, 29, 28, 27…_

Bane put one foot into the container and Scarecrow took his moment. Lunging forwards, he pulled out the Fear gas from his coat and sprayed it directly into Bane's face.

_20, 19, 18, 17…_

Bane stepped backwards rubbing his eyes and, for a second, Scarecrow worried that Crane was wrong and the Joker was right. That the Toxin didn't work. That Jonathan had made a mistake, somehow, with the new formula.

_14, 13, 12, 11…_

And then Bane's eyes focused on something in the distance, and started to whimper. Scarecrow smiled, feeding on the fear.

_10, 9, 8, 7…_

He walked past the quivering body, writhing on the floor and screaming about a demon bat. That'd explain why he was after Batman, then. He was just as mad as the rest of the nutters. He belonged in Arkham with all of the other paranoid delusionists.

It felt fantastic, to see such a great, hulking man fall.

_6, 5, 4, 3…_

Scarecrow walked out of the shipping yard a winner, leaving Bane behind him.

_2, 1…_

The Joker laughed hysterically as the car park went up in smoke. The flames danced, orange and white and red against the concrete of the ugly structure. The cars parked inside fuelled the fire. Thick black smoke plumed up into the sky, creating clouds against the otherwise clear night sky. Ash fell like snow, and the Joker smiled.

It was beautiful, and it was wonderful, and it would _definitely _impress the Bat.

Or, at least entice him.

…

Jonathan saw the car park explode and smiled to himself, he'd recognise the Joker's handiwork anywhere. And, it'd mean he'd be in a good mood once he'd returned to the flat, so they could celebrate together.

….

The car park came down with a rumble and a crash, crushing some of the structures around them. The Joker wasn't sure if he'd killed anyone, didn't really care, but the Bat would, and that was all he needed.

He climbed a fire escape so he could stand on top of a roof for better visibility. That and the Bat generally used the rooftops to get about. He supposed it was symbolic. That and he was less likely to run into the cops.

He waited five minutes before he started to pace, staring into the street below, glancing at the fire-lit roofs for a sign, any sign.

The Joker was starting to get worried when he heard the Bat's voice. He smiled, and turned to face him.

"Why would you do this?" The gravelly voice growled out, and the Joker frowned. Why was not a question he was usually asked.

"Oh come on, it's hardly my style." A female voice replied, "Are you sure you don't have a secret admirer?"

Batman laughed, he actually laughed, and said "I have many, but they usually stick around after they cause destruction. Why were you here?"

She giggled, "I knew you would be."

The Joker's eyes narrowed. Who the hell was this woman, and why was _she _taking up his attention when Bat's should be looking for him? The Joker saw red and growled, a low sound which punctuated the giggling, flirty conversation between the Bat and his… _Kitten_.

He stalked out from where he was standing and walked towards the _couple_, his finger flickering against the knife, blood pooling from the wound he'd caused, his gloves off.

"Well, well, well. This is very _cosy _isn't it?" he spat. "Who's your girlfriend, Batty? She's, ah, very your style."

"I should have known it would be you, Joker."  
>"Yes, you should. But it appears you were somewhat… <em>distracted<em>. What happened, Bats? Hmm? You used to always know it was me."

"You've been missing," the woman said, stepping forward.

The Joker laughed, still playing with the knife.

"I certainly missed you, who the hell are you, by the way?"  
>"Catwoman."<br>The Joker barked a laugh, and turned back to Batman.

"And they say _I'm_ infatuated! Really?"

"I'm a cat burglar, actually," she spat, stepping closer still. Batman reached out an arm, but the Joker got there first, slashing the knife at her in warning, hitting her arm and slicing through the thin material. She pulled her arm back and snarled, launching towards the Joker. He sidestepped, and she fell forwards. The Joker walked towards Batman.

"Oh, Batty, you used to have standards."

Batman could see something in his eyes, the malice evident, present like it never had been before. It unnerved Bruce to see it, and he wanted to keep Catwoman out of the way as much as he could. The Joker was more dangerous than ever, and he had no idea why.

"You and me, we used to have so much _fun_. Don't let _her _get in the way of that."

Catwoman ran at the Joker, and he sidestepped again, grabbing her arm and hurling her into Batman, who grabbed her arm and stopped her from trying to have another go.

"You have _no _idea what you're messing with, sweetheart. We have a balance; we have a purpose, a duty, a _calling_."

"You're mad."  
>"I'm not. Tell her, Bats, I'm not."<p>

Batman said nothing, and the Joker growled.

"You _know_ I'm not! You know it! _Tell her._"

He snarled out the last two words of the sentence, and, with the silence that followed he spun himself around, breathing heavily. Because this was _not_ happening. He was _not _being cast aside for some woman who did nothing more than rob some fucking banks. She was pathetic. His Bat couldn't do this. They were bound forever in battle.

She. Couldn't. Have. Him.

…...

Jonathan decided to go and check out the fire, just in case the Joker needed his help. As soon as he heard the raised voices his mood sank, and he tried to desperately find the correct rooftop. He found the stairs and ran up them, his footsteps clanging into the night air.

….

Speed was his advantage. Speed and pure violence. There was a fire extinguisher in the top cabin in case a fire broke out on the floors below.

The Joker walked away, and Batman was unnerved and slightly relieved.

"Is he just leaving? Just like that?"  
>"I… don't know. He doesn't usually. But I'd expect him to have at least tried to stab me by now."<p>

"Aw, did you break your boyfriend's heart?" Catwoman joked and Batman scoffed.

The Joker came up behind them before either one could notice and smacked Batman over the head with the fire extinguisher. He then let it fall to the ground with a clang, and it rolled away out of sight. The woman was stood staring at him with wide eyes, and Batman dropped to the floor.

"What have you done?"  
>"Stay back," he growled, walking towards a stunned Batman lying on the floor. He leant down, tilting his head sideways.<p>

"Y'see, Bats. We can't go on like this. Me and you, we're connected. You need to get your priorities right. You need to _remember _who it is that's there for you."

He leant forwards and whispered in his ear.

"She'll _go_, and I won't. You'll see. One day. You'll see."

"What did you say? What did you _say _to him?"

"You have no idea who you're dealing with, do you? Get out of here."

"You have no idea who _you're _dealing with!" 

He started giggling, "No, I don't. And I don't care, either. Now, get lost sweetheart, before you lose your head."

"I won't be intimidated by you."  
>"GO!"<p>

Jonathan stepped out of the shadows and into sight behind the Joker.

"Everything alright?"  
>"Fine, Scarecrow. All fine."<p>

"What the hell is this? A meeting for Gotham's psychos?"  
>"Oh, just spray her will you Johnny? She's getting on my nerves."<p>

"Gladly."

Jonathan walked over to the woman and sprayed her in the face. She started to shriek.

"What's the matter, honey? Seen a dog?"  
>He started to laugh, and the Joker rolled his eyes.<p>

"Put Scarecrow back in his box, Johnny, and help me move Batsy."

Jonathan shook his head to rid himself of an annoyed Scarecrow and grabbed Batman's legs. They half dragged him down the stairs and into the alley beyond, Catwoman's screams still piercing their ears.

"Where we taking him?"  
>"To the Batmobile. It'll be hidden. He'll not get hurt."<br>"Hurt? You just hit him over the head with a fire extinguisher!"

"For his own good."

"He's fucking heavy!"

They dumped him in the car, and then head off home.

"I didn't even get a proper fight with him this time. Stupid bitch."

"You'll be alright."  
>"Where've you been anyway, all dressed up?"<p>

Jonathan produced the sample bottle from his pocket.

"S'that supposed to be? Radioactive piss?"  
>"It's Venom."<br>"Ah-hah. Right."

"New villain on the block, Bane, he's practically superhuman. And I think this is why…" 

The Joker rolled his eyes.

"Are you… okay?"

The Joker looked at him.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Just, y'know, Batman…"  
>"He can't get rid of me that easily. We're destined."<p>

"You're not… in love with him, are you?"

The Joker's eyes narrowed.

"I don't want to _fuck_ him, if that's what you mean."  
>"Oh, okay. I mean, I didn't think…"<br>"You're babbling."

"Yeah."

"I want a beer."  
>"Me too."<p> 


	15. Chapter 15

"Hey, Johnny?"  
>"Hmm?"<p>

Jonathan didn't look up from his 'chemistry set' where he was stood running tests on the Venom. The Joker was lounging over the sofa.

"I want to kill him. Is that normal?"

Jonathan did look up this time.

"What?"  
>"Batty. I want to kill him if he wants to play with other people. Is that normal?"<p>

Jonathan turned back to the Venom.

"Kill him to keep him? Yeah, probably. But if you do, you'll be bored forever. Try killing some 'innocent' people instead, that'll rile him up. Or that Cat, if he's took a shine to her."  
>"Nah, I already killed one of his girlfriends. Don't like pulling the same trick twice. Anyway, I know who she is. I might tip off the mob she's been stealing from or something."<p>

"Classy."  
>"Meh. Serves them right for trying to hide an existing identity. See, you and me are different. You don't hide who you are, you're Johnny and the Scarecrow. Me, I'm no one else. I'm just the Joker. You can't hold up two identities and hide one. It's impossible."<p>

Jonathan looked up again, almost dropping the pipette he was holding.

"Do you know who Batman is?"

The Joker giggled, "Of course I do. And you'll see, in time. I'm sure of it. Now, how're you getting on with that?"

"Okay. Apparently it enhances strength, speed, healing, reflexes and stamina. No wonder he's a nasty bastard."

"And yet you took him out with some Fear Toxin. Have to admit, I'm impressed."

"Yeah, well. It's my own personal triumph."

The Joker smiled.

"Poor Frank."  
>"Frank?"<br>"The hamster. He's called Frank."

Jonathan looked at the little grey thing staring at him through the cage bars. It was unsettling, usually it was running itself ragged, climbing and trying to escape. Sometimes it looked intelligent. And sometimes Jonathan thought he was losing the plot. Although, at least it explained how he kept getting broccoli.

"Is he?"

"Yes, he told me."  
>"That's nice… what?"<p>

The Joker laughed.

"I named him. I like him. he's clever."

"Frank?"  
>"He looks like a Frank."<p>

Jonathan looked at the rodent and found himself agreeing.

"Yeah."  
>He shook his head.<p>

"I think I'm losing the plot."  
>"Because you're seeing names that suit rodents? Probably."<p>

"Thanks."  
>"No worries."<p>

The Joker jumped to his feet, stuck his hand in the cage and the hamster climbed on, and straight into his shirt pocket. Jonathan looked at the Joker, confused.

"What? I like animals. They're better than people by far."

Jonathan found himself agreeing again. At least they didn't try to make you do things. The Joker was rummaging in the fridge, asking Frank what he'd like for lunch.

"I think I can transform this Toxin into something new."  
>"Ooh! Modification! I like it. How about something that makes people laugh and laugh. And then die."<p>

"Not a bad idea. I'm sure I can cook something up."

"Good! It'd come in handy. Like my razor cards, and acid spitting flower, and the electric shock buzzer."  
>"I'm not even gonna ask where you store those…"<br>"My room is not a safe place to be. Do you like the sound of an acid spitting flower, Frankie? No, you can't get Johnny with it."

"Oh good, a hamster is plotting to kill me."  
>"He's just kidding, Johnny, lighten up. And anyway, he won't. He listens to me. Now, do you want the broccoli or the carrot? How about some chicken? I know you like chicken, although I don't think you'd catch and cook one in the wild, no."<br>"J, Can you stop having a one sided conversation with Frank, please. The idea that he's talking back is getting more and more real and it's becoming disconcerting."

The Joker giggled, "He _is _talking back. I think your venom gives extra intelligence too. He says you can't test the toxic stuff on him or else he'll be forced to sign a pact with me to avenge his death."  
>"Oh, wonderful. How did you die, then Jonathan? Well, a hamster told my <em>buddy <em>the Joker to kill me."

"Just don't do it…"  
>"I won't. And I don't believe he's talking to you, either."<p>

"Don't listen to him, Frankie. He's just jealous."

"Losing my mind, yes. Jealous, no."

"Ah, mind loss. The best form of loss."

"I am trying to work over here, you know? You talking to Francis the hamster is kind of off-putting."

"Sorry, I'll whisper to him instead."

The Joker lowered his voice to a stage whisper, "So chicken, broccoli and carrot then, Frankie?"  
>"Yes please. With peas."<p>

Jonathan looked up, then back down again, his head in his hands.

"I'm not even going there. Are you making me any?"

"Do you want some?"  
>"Yeah."<br>"Okay then."

Half an hour later and they were sat around the small table in the living-stroke-dining room eating one of the weirdest meal combinations that Jonathan had ever seen. He was also sharing it with a hamster eating from a tiny plate.

"I don't think I will kill him," the Joker said, thoughtfully.

"What?" Jonathan asked, tearing his eyes away from the hamster.

"Batsy. I don't think I will kill him. I think I'd miss him."

"Oh, right, yeah. Probably for the best, really."

Jonathan was sure Francis nodded, but he just put it to the back of his mind. Some days were normal, some violent, and some just downright surreal. Today was a surreal day. The Joker smiled. Jonathan was now convinced he was doing it on purpose. And after lunch, he was going back into his cage to run off the venom so he could become fat and lazy once more, like a normal hamster. Because Jonathan didn't know if he could take anymore of the madness.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Sorry. I've written a good few angsty/serious chapters tonight and so needed a bit of crack. I'm sure you won't begrudge me that. If you do, I'll set Francis the hamster on you. (I actually have a hamster... Called Frank... Unimaginative, eh? He doesn't talk to me mind. Although it'd be pretty fucking cool if he did.) And anyway, if it is begrudged then, ah, why so serious? ;) Hah. You could see that coming from a mile off, couldn't you?  
>Happy new year, by the way, and if you've stuck with me this far, good on ya! It's much appreciated, and I hope you're enjoying the product of my mental imagination. <strong>


	16. Chapter 16

They were watching the news. Jonathan was amazed that the Joker was actually sat in front of the TV, staring at it, and maybe, just maybe taking it in. That _never _happened.

The picture cut to a helicopter over a man, lying on the ground surrounded by a police cordon. In the flashing blue and red lights, the damage to the surrounding building was evident. The man on the ground was unmistakable, and suddenly Jonathan felt sick.

The Joker honed in on it straight away, his heart missing a beat and his blood running cold.

"Jonathan, turn the volume up."

Jonathan reached out for the remote and turned the volume up almost automatically, his brain feeling dazed and confused.

"_Scenes from earlier showed that what looked like the Batman is seriously injured. Commissioner Gordon was on the scene, but refused to comment earlier to a ground reporter both before he reached the area, and when he was leaving. They now have the area secure so no one can get near it and an emergency ambulance was reported to have taken Batman away. Bane has eluded officers so far…"_

The Joker's face darkened and his eyes narrowed. He jumped off the sofa and went into the bedroom. Jonathan spoke to him, but he didn't hear it. He smeared the pain on his face automatically, not really knowing what he was doing, just going through the motions.

He was out the door within five minutes.

The dark irony of the situation hit Jonathan full in the face. The first time the Joker watched the news would be the time that Batman was seriously injured, wouldn't it?

And he had a sinking in his stomach that told him a cycle of events had been set in motion, and whatever it was that was going down wouldn't end well at all. He felt as though he was living the final scenes of a Shakespearian tragedy.

He looked across at the hamster cage to be confronted with the tiny face of the Russian dwarf they'd adopted staring back at him. He was, again, freaked out by the illusion of human emotions on its face as it looked to the door the Joker had just left.

"If he's not back in an hour, I'll go find him," he said, more to himself than to Frank.

He was seriously concerned that the Joker would do something stupid and reckless and get himself injured beyond repair just so he could be the same as Batman.

And really, he didn't know what he'd do if that happened.


	17. Chapter 17

Commissioner Gordon was sat in his office with his head in his hands. Batman was down, and possibly out. He needed to think of a cover story so Bruce didn't have his life plagued out. And what the hell was he going to do with all the mentals that were swanning around Gotham without Batman to take them out?

This was a mess. A damned mess.

He heard footsteps echoing from the corridor beyond his office and looked up. He had been convinced everyone else had left while he wallowed in self-pity. Maybe someone had taken pity and made him a coffee.

He was still being haunted by the image of Batman sprawled on the pavement…

The Joker walked through the door, and Gordon froze. His gun was out of reach, he was fairly defenceless. He could maybe get him with the glass on the desk, but he was fairly sure the Joker was quicker than that.

He stopped in the doorway, leaning against the frame chewing his mouth and licking his lips. Gordon wondered whether this was a tic, or whether he did it to intimidate people.

"Commissioner."

Gordon tried his best to look into the Joker's eyes and remain sitting.

"What do you want?"

"Just wondering how the Bat's doing."

Gordon narrowed his eyes, "Why do you care?"

The Joker looked offended, "Of course I _care_. Why wouldn't I care?"

"Well, er, you keep trying to kill him."  
>"I've never tried to <em>kill <em>him. I wouldn't _kill _him. He's too much _fun_. Well, at least he was… Now, well, I don't know. Just, ah, tell me the damage."

"I…"  
>"Look, I already <em>know <em>everything there is to know about him. I know he's really little Bruce Wayne."  
>"Wh… But…?"<br>"I've known ages. Why do you think I called the little, ah, quest off? Hmm? I'm not gonna kill him in his sleep, coz I haven't so far. You can trust that, man of my word and everything. I just need to know if he's gonna recover."

"Why?"

"_**Because**_," he exclaimed, and then took a deep breath to calm himself. "Because, if he isn't then I don't have anything left. I'll fade away. I could take your city and crush it in the palm of my hand with no resistance but… why would I if there's no one to stop me? What'd be the point?"

Gordon sighed, recognising impatience and something very close to worry in the Joker's eyes. He didn't like looking at the monster when the monster was close to being human. He cracked under the strain. He'd had a shit day too, it was to be expected.

"Bane broke his back. We think he threw him against a wall and his spine snapped. He had no chance, really. Bane's too strong."  
>"It's the Venom."<br>"What?"  
>"He's on this… stuff. Like a performing enhancing drug. Almost like a steroid on steroids. It makes him bigger, makes him heal faster, and makes him quicker. Jonathan got obsessed with it; he stole some of it from Bane's shipping container and has been running tests. Maybe Bane's addicted to it or something, Frank seemed a bit freaked when he went into withdrawl. He's our hamster. Bane's a clever guy, you know, but shit like that drives men crazy, doesn't it?"<br>"Wait, hold up, he has a shipping container full of the stuff?"  
>"Apparently so."<br>"Why are you telling me this?" 

The Joker shrugged, "He broke the Bat. He won't get away with that. He broke his back… I mean, people can recover from that, right?"  
>"Well, yeah. Depends where the break is though and I don't know where the break is. He could be okay in months, or in years or… well, never."<br>"Maybe if we used the Venom on him…"  
>"I don't think that's a good idea."<br>"I want him fixed."  
>"I don't know if he can <em>be <em>fixed."  
>"Well then I want Bane gone!" <p>

Gordon looked down, and then back at the Joker. He was visibly angry now, twisting a knife in his fingers and licking his lips more frequently.

"Well I won't argue with that. He's wrecked half the city bounding around like the Hulk and he's taken out the one person who can keep this city to rights."

"And yet _you_ persecuted him."  
>"<em>He <em>asked me to. He's whatever we need him to be."  
>"He's nothing now! All because of Bane's stupid psycho-fear of a demon bat."<br>"What?"  
>"Johnny used the Fear Toxin on him to get away. He was screaming about a demon bat. He reckons Bane thinks Brucey is an embodiment of the bat of his fears."<br>"Do you think we could use the Toxin to stop him?"

The Joker shrugged, "I dunno. I don't understand that stuff. It doesn't _work _on me."

Gordon laughed despite himself, "That doesn't surprise me."

"I'll get him, though."  
>"You think you can?"<br>"I'll give it a go. See, commissioner, you have a family, don't you?"  
>"Ah, yes…"<br>"No, no. don't get uncomfortable, I'm not going to do anything to them. But you can't imagine not having anything to live for, can you? Not unless they weren't there. See, I have nothing. I _had _nothing. Then I heard a story of some mobsters I could trick out of a few bucks, not for the money, for shits and giggles, and then when I did I heard of the Batman. And once I'd _met _him, he became everything. If one of us disappears, the other will just fade into nothing. Bane has destroyed the only thing I have and I'll take him down or die trying. At least that way you'd not have to _worry _about me anymore…"

The commissioner felt himself feeling sorry for the Joker, living such a lonely, confused existence. It was strange just how easy it became to forget that he wasn't a psychopath, to forget that he'd killed so many people, that he'd tried to corrupt everything, the explosions, the TV threats, the boats, the _knives_ – it all paled when he was standing in front of you explaining the strange relationship he had with Batman. Gordon wondered whether Bruce felt the same way – he'd never asked him anything to do with the Joker, just seeing him as some messed up crazy trying to destroy Gotham. He'd never thought there might be more to it. And that worried him. Maybe there wasn't anything to it. Maybe he was just a nutjob who lived to see things burn. Maybe Gordon had fallen under the Joker 'charm' they all talked about at Arkham. He was a pathological liar, after all. How many scar stories circulated to various professionals and random strangers alike?

The Joker carried on in a softer tone of voice as the commissioner dwelled upon his thoughts.

"I can't go back to nothing. I wasn't anyone before who I am now. I have nothing to fall back to, and I can't carry on without him because it'll be too boring, too easy. Maybe the one decent thing I do in my life will be the _last_ thing that I do. Hah, wouldn't that be ironic?"

The Joker spun on his heel and walked out of the door, his footsteps echoing back the way they had come. Gordon had never seen the man so… serious.

"Be seeing ya, commissioner."

Jim Gordon was left with an empty feeling in the pit of his stomach and a concern that if the Joker tried to take down Bane they'd bring half the city down with them. He was also slightly concerned about the pity he'd had for the man, how unexplainably young he had seemed and the amount of anger bubbling away at the surface that he had tried to disguise. He'd also never had a conversation with the Joker that didn't involve a threat or some form of murder to innocent people.

A fight between the Joker and Bane could end with hundreds of casualties; neither would be concerned about harming innocent people. And he really needed to start a search in the morning for the shipping container with the Venom that the Joker had mentioned. It was scary that he was acting upon intelligence from one of Gotham's most wanted felons.

He needed a drink, but thought he better go home for that. After all, maybe the Joker had poisoned that bottle of whisky in his desk drawer. He wouldn't put it past him. He was still a murdering psychopath, after all. One conversation wouldn't change that.


	18. Chapter 18

"Where've you been?" Jonathan asked, standing up when the Joker put his key in the door and stormed in full of hell and fury.

"Hey, J, seriously! Where've you been? I was worried."  
>"I went to see the commissioner."<p>

"You what?"

The Joker walked into the bedroom and opened the drawer on the bedside table, pulling out a gun, some knives and all of the stuff he'd told Jonathan about the day with the hamster. Jonathan stood in the doorway, shocked.

"Why did you do that? You could've been arrested or anything!"

The Joker shrugged, "He was fairly helpful."  
>"In what way?"<br>"Informing me of what was happening." 

He pushed past Jonathan and headed back into the living room.

"Hey, you're freaking me out a bit. Just, tell me what's happening. Please."

The Joker poured himself some whisky into a mug, and ignored Jonathan to the best of his ability. He started to get annoyed, the Joker had a haunted look about him, haunted and enraged and Jonathan was worried for what that meant to himself, and what the Joker was about to do. He growled.

"Joker. Tell me what's going on. You can't just keep me in the dark, here. I'm in this as much as you are if you're about to do something stupid!"

"He _broke_ Batman's back!" The Joker growled, spinning to face Jonathan and baring his teeth. The unspoken 'my' hung in the air, thick and heavy. Crane figured he should be scared, but he couldn't bring himself to be. Because when the flicker started he pictured the Joker without (with?) the mask, behaving like a normal person and it stopped his _real _self from being as intimidating.

"Yes, and what do you think he's going to do to you?"

The Joker growled properly this time, slamming the mug onto the counter, and took a couple of steps into Jonathan's space. Scarecrow helped him stay rooted to the spot, and he continued to stare into the Joker's eyes.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Jonathan sighed. When was this idiot going to realise that he wasn't trying to attack him, or belittle him but just _stop _him from doing himself more damage. In this case potentially _fatal_ damage.

"It _means_ that you're well matched with Batman because you're at roughly the same intellect and where he makes up for extra muscle, you make it up with extra violence that he can't match. Bane has the muscle _and _the violence. _And _the Venom!"  
>"Ah, yes. Your new obsession."<br>"It enhances reflexes, strength and speed. Taking him on is a bad idea."  
>"I'm <em>smarter<em>."  
>"Possibly, but you're not <em>planning<em>. You're not using it to your advantage!"  
>"I don't <em>plan<em>! Planning is for scheming little wankers like Harvey Dent and _you_. And plans _always_ go wrong!"

Jonathan tried not to be stung, and gritted his teeth.

"That's all well and good _but _if your intelligence is your only strength against this man, and we don't even know that, you need to think it through. You can't just go storming off at him because he _hurt_ Batman without at least planting some back-up explosives or some way to get out!"

The Joker got right up in his face.

"Just no, okay? No. He hasn't just _hurt_ him, Crane. He's _broken _him. That was always my job. And I would _never _put him out of action! I wanted him to fall from grace. _Not _this!"  
>"You could get killed!"<br>"And why the fuck would that matter, hmm? He's flushed everything down the shitter for me anyway! I have _nothing _left, Crane. _Nothing_! If he kills me, he kills me. He's ruined everything else; he might as well ruin me too!"

And with that, the Joker stormed out of the front door and into the storm. Jonathan was left staring at the door, wishing that he could say or do something to convince him otherwise, but, it was too late now because he was gone.

Batman was his life and Bane had destroyed that, that was fair enough, but he should at least wait. A back break wasn't the end of the world. He might not even end up paralysed. He could come back to the game in a few years time. All the Joker had to do was sit and wait. Revenge against a big bastard with a nasty temper without any prior planning was _not _in any way a good idea.

And, really, Jonathan had thought he'd crept into the Joker's life. That they were friends in such a way that they were like those old Victorian gentlemen who lived together and did everything together without seeming gay. He'd hoped that Batman wasn't the only thing keeping the Joker alive. But he was clearly wrong.

He'd never seen such _anger _in anyone's eyes. It looked like the Joker was being torn apart.

It looked like it hurt.

Scarecrow growled in the back of Jonathan's mind, anger at the Joker rising, anger at Bane ruining the game pushing to the front. And it made Jonathan realise something. Because, no matter how much the Joker tried to deny it, they'd been in this together since they left Arkham.

It was all fucked up, but they needed to look out for each other.

So that's what he was going to do.

He grabbed his mask and a bottle of fear toxin, and raided the Joker's room for some of his plentiful supply of dynamite. All he had to do is find him before it was too late to save him.

Maybe the Joker didn't need Jonathan, but Jonathan needed the Joker. And so he set off into the gales and hailstones of the night. He didn't have _that_ much of a head start, and Scarecrow could help.

He felt a rush of excitement as the fear crept in.

He was going to take down Bane. He had to.

He just _knew _it.


	19. Chapter 19

The Joker set out into the night, still and silent, as if Gotham was expecting something. Something big. And it was coming, because he was the Joker, and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to get his way. He could take Bane and the city down with him, if he had to go down, and he would.

He'd leave a legacy, because he wasn't just going to fade away into nothing. It was against everything he was, and everything he had stood for. Gotham would fear the mere mention of his name for years to come, even if he died tonight.

And the night was still calm, and he whistled as his footsteps between the buildings echoed a rhythm. You could cut the tension with a knife, and it felt as though the end was nigh. Premeditated, prejudged, something was pushing him towards this, something guiding his way to Bane. An idea that he would never be forgotten, because something was watching him, something out there. He glanced around him, smirking, and giggled.

"With me til the end, are we?" he asked no one in particular. "Just don't try this yourself, hmm? It's kinda reckless."

He couldn't help but think on his time in Gotham as the Joker, the fun he'd had, the fights he'd had, the things he'd created, the things he'd destroyed.

"_Playing in the shadows, people call it shallow, tell me something I don't know…"_

He whistled, and the fence of the shipping yard came into view. Somewhere in there Bane rested in his victory.

But not for long.

…

Jonathan made his way to the shipping yard where he assumed the Joker was headed. The air was thick and the atmosphere heavy, the dark and cold night oppressive with the thought and the fear of something _big_ on the horizon.

Gotham couldn't know what was coming, the Joker sent out no warnings, it wouldn't be possible. But something in the air told them. The night was the calm before the storm and he was late, he was behind…

The Joker would be fighting for a fair while before Jonathan caught up to him. Hopefully he'd be talking for most of that, and not be being pounded into the ground by a man on the ultimate performance enhancing drug.

If the Joker died, then Jonathan would have to carry on. Bane was going down, and that's why he'd been with the Joker all along, he reckoned. The Joker didn't know what was going to happen but he snared Jonathan, pulled him in and corrupted his mind. So if he died, Jonathan would pick up the pieces and end Bane's life.

Or he, himself, would die trying.

And all for the sake of Batman. The man who made him lose his mind. How pathetic.

...

The Joker hopped over the fence and landed rather ungainly on the other side, making sure the weight went to his non-damaged leg. He didn't need a weakness before he'd even started. It was darker here, the river away from the more congested, electric-lit streets beyond. The river washed up against the shore in the distance, causing a bit of very atmospheric mist to cloud between the containers.

The Joker smiled. Bring it.


	20. Chapter 20

"_Got someone waiting at home for me, staring at the door…"_

He walked between the containers, knife out, a mixture of humming, singing and whistling as he stalked his prey. Or was he they prey, stalking out the predator in a futile attempt to get his own back?

Jonathan thought so.

"_Tomorrow she'll probably disown me, happy no more. Keep falling into shadows…"_

He felt something strange in his chest for the second time that night. The first was when he heard that Batman was down, but now that thought only brought him rage. He spun the knife, it needed a target, it was _looking _for its victim.

It had been too long.

"_I'm playing in the shadows, all night long. So good to play with bad girls, I'm still young. They keep on saying… _Hal-lo."

Bane was right there in front of him. Sitting on his arse, staring into a shipping container full of stuff like a dog who had been left outside but really wanted to be in. the Joker didn't blame him, it was cold and rainy, the fog sweeping over them and hiding him from view as he was on the river side. He was at an advantage, providing he could keep quiet. He liked to think Bane didn't know he was there.

"_I know what they want. You'll find me in the shadows," _he muttered, suppressing a giggle that wanted to force its way out into the tension. He felt like the whisper alone had cut through the night like his knife wanted to cut through Bane's muscles. He wondered whether they'd pop if he stabbed them, and didn't manage to suppress the laughter.

Stupid reflex.

Bane turned round, his huge body practically creaking from the strain of having to move. The Joker could see every bit of sinew and every prominent vein twitching and felt slightly sick. He didn't move, staying motionless behind the veil of fog.

"Who's there?" Bane asked, his voice rumbling like thunder through the silence of the night. Maybe he felt the tension too, the Joker thought, gleefully. Maybe Bane wouldn't feed on it like he did.

He was definitely a big guy, the Joker mused, and the pipes sticking into his back were fairly… wrong. He was intelligent too, by the looks of it, he still hadn't turned back to stare at the container. Maybe that was just the fight or flight mechanism.

"C'mon. Show yourself. If you're cops you know I can beat you hands down."

The Joker chuckled to himself and hung his coat up on one of the shipping container doors, his gloves in one of the pockets. He didn't want to fight in that. He wanted to feel Bane's blood on his skin. He then walked forwards through the mist, pulling his shirt sleeves up against the cold air.

"Not cops, no. Just me."

Bane narrowed his eyes, and then relaxed slightly. _Bad move_, the Joker thought.

"Joker?"  
>"M-hm."<p>

"Nice to meet you, finally."

"It is?"

Bane didn't detect the sarcasm in his voice and nodded. The Joker rolled his eyes.

"Come to congratulate me?"  
>"Something like that."<p>

…

Jonathan dug his foot into the wire links of the fence and climbed up, easily swinging himself over and jumping down. He landed feet first, his knees bent absorbing the shock effectively so he could stand up and walk without issue. He wondered how the hell the Joker had managed that with his dodgy hip, since he'd not land well at all, just throw himself over the top and down to the ground on the other side.

Jonathan was cold, his feet, his arms, his legs, his chest, his face… His glasses were peppered with rainwater and his lungs felt like they were freezing inside. Some hero he was gonna be. Not that he'd ever wanted to be a hero. He was always the other end of the spectrum.

He wished he'd thought to wear something better than that _suit_. It was _not_ in any way adapted for foul weather. And his shoes were _leaking_.

He shook himself from this train of thought, remembering why he was here and what could be happening beyond him. All was quiet, and that was strange. Unless… Jonathan gulped. It was better _not _to think about what could have already happened to the Joker. He didn't want to see the green haired figure lying in a puddle somewhere covered in blood.

He wouldn't get the same reception from the pubic, anyway…

Jonathan followed the path he'd taken to the shipping container and committed to memory through the mist to where he imagined the Joker to be. Maybe Bane wasn't here. Maybe he could convince him not to fight.

"Something like that? I took down Batman! Gotham's yours for the taking."

The Joker growled, and Jonathan froze, mixed joy at him being okay and fear at what was coming next. He was close, close enough to see the Joker's coat hanging up on one of the container door handles.

"You _broke_ the Bat! Why would I ever be grateful to you for that?" he shouted. "I didn't want Gotham, I never wanted Gotham! I wanted _him_, corrupt, down to my level!"

"But he's… evil."  
>"He's not evil you twat. There's no such <em>thing<em>as evil! There's just a ridiculous delusion in your head about a demon bat who you've personified as Batman. Hah. And they call _me_ crazy."

Bane stood up, Jonathan could see the figure clambering to his feet, he could feel the metal of the containers shaking as he did so.

"Ooh, you think that's scary? Hmm? I'm not scared of you, _Bane_. I never will be. So come on then. Lt's see if you can take me down as easily. But just remember, I have no _rules_."

Jonathan didn't know whether to laugh or cry when the Joker flicked a playing card at Bane and it embedded itself into his upper arm, narrowly missing one of the tubes buried in his flesh. The thing went deep, and Jonathan had to admire the Joker's sick sense of humour when he created those things. Thin, light, and yet with every moment it dug into the sinew further. Bane howled and the Joker laughed, a sound Jonathan had never heard before. Something feral and mad. He wondered whether he should step in or not, whether the Joker needed his help, whether the Joker _wanted _his help.

And then Bane lurched forward and picked him up by the shoulders, about two foot wider and a foot taller than the Joker, still laughing in his grip. Bane reached for the Joker's throat and Scarecrow took over.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: The song in this (and the previous chapter) is another Brit recent-hit. Although I don't think it was ever released as a single... Not yet, anyway. It's called _Playing in the Shadows_ by _Example_ and it's fairly atmospheric and pretty incredible for a chapter like this. :). If you're ever bored, check these things out. It's amazing what you miss when you're in another country. I've listened to some incredible stuff via American fanfic. But I'm not preaching owt, coz that annoys me. Just credit where credit's due to artists that influence what I do.  
><strong>**Also, this and the next chapter were going to be published together in the same chapter, but I had to split them up because 7 pages on Word is *way* too much for a chapter on here.  
>Also (again), I go back to uni tomorrow and I have a couple of heavy weeks up and coming. I endeavor to publish whenever I can, but please don't think I've abandoned the story if I don't come back to it for a while. It'll get finished. Promise. <em>I'm a (wo)man of my word.<em> ;) Clichéd. Yuck. Haha.  
>Enjoy!<strong>


	21. Chapter 21

Scarecrow ran forward and was completely unnoticed by Bane, but caught the Joker's eyes. He shook his head, and then wriggled his arm free to grab the sacred flower. He pointed it at Bane's face and sprayed.

Bane screeched and threw the Joker to the floor before turning away to wipe the acid out of his eye. The Joker staggered to his feet and Jonathan, somewhere in the back of his consciousness, tutted. Before the night was through, he was going to have to put that hip back in…

Scarecrow darted past Bane and over to the Joker.

"What the hell are you doing here?" The Joker asked, wincing as he flexed his leg.

"Saving you, you mad cunt!"

The Joker laughed, and Bane turned back round, baring his teeth.

"Round two!" he shouted and Scarecrow sighed.  
>"Fucking hell…"<p>

Bane moved with surprising speed for such a big bastard, and they had to scatter to each side as he was suddenly on them, running behind him and regrouping.

"What are we supposed to be doing here?"  
>"I dunno… taking him down?"<br>"You must have _some _idea."  
>"Not really…"<br>"What is wrong with you?"

The Joker laughed again, "Thanks for showing up, mate."  
>"I dunno why I bothered, to be honest…"<p>

Bane lurched forwards again, honing in on the Joker and punching him, knocking him to the side. The Joker was ready though and had a knife out and ready which was stuck through Bane's hand and out of the other side when he did so. Bane pulled his hand back, freely dripping blood, Jonathan managed to make the observation that Venom seemed to be a blood thinning agent before a shadow passed over him and Scarecrow ducked out of the way, thrusting a kitchen knife through the wound and twisting.

Bane howled, and the Joker's eyes widened.

"Nice one, Scary! Now you're getting it!"

Scarecrow smiled, and pulled the knife out, tearing more flesh than was entirely necessary. The Joker threw a few playing cards and, like darts, they hit their target and stuck in, drawing blood in three different places and worming their way under the skin – much like the Joker himself.

Bane was beginning to tire of what he initially thought was going to be a game, and knocked the Joker on his arse again. He twisted a little too obviously, and Scarecrow could see that Bane had realised there was something wrong with the Joker's leg.

"Shit," he muttered, and picked up one of the metal bars that lay around the shipping yard in various different places. It was heavy, but if he managed to get trajectory right he had a chance. He raised it above his had and threw it, it collided with Bane's head with a clang, and the Joker started to giggle, taking the chance to scramble to his feet again and attach something to one of the containers behind him.

While Bane was busy trying to keep up with a darting Scarecrow, using his agility as his only strength, the Joker was planting explosives on one side of the circle they were trapped in. Bane reached out to grab Scarecrow, and was just about there when the Joker threw another razor and caught him in the shin, the impact making Bane fall.

Scarecrow felt a pressure around his wrist and was pulled out of the way and behind a container just as the explosions went off.

And that's when all hell broke loose. Bane was singed, and smelt of burning flesh, but he got back to his feet – his skin healing as they watched, the cards closest to the surface falling out and hitting the floor with a clank. Their eyes flickered to Bane's hand, and the blood flow there had almost stopped.

"Shit." Scarecrow breathed, and the Joker's eyes widened.

"Yeah."

"Realise yet that this was a _bad _idea?"  
>"Maybe…"<p>

"We need to get him with the Toxin."

"What's he doing…?"  
>"Are you even listening to me?"<br>"No, look at him."

Scarecrow's eyes flickered over to where Bane was rooting around inside a container, filling something up from a barrel and injecting it into something on his back.

"Oh, no way. No way! That's cheating!" The Joker said, and Scarecrow gulped.

"We really need to get out of here."

The Joker darted out and into the fire, "Hey, dickhead!"  
>Bane dropped the syringe and growled, "Don't call me that."<br>"I'll call you whatever the fuck I want, _Bane_. I don't like you."

He dodged a blow, but missed the one from the other side which hit him squarely on the side of the head and made him see stars. Blood started pouring and Scarecrow dimly realised Bane was wearing some kind of knuckle-duster.

"For fucks sake…"

The Joker humped up on top of one of the mangled bits of metal, knife drawn and twirling in his fingers. He wondered if it was some sort of nervous reaction. If the Joker actually _felt _nerves…

"Hey, ah, cupcake. Get on with it!" The Joker shouted, and Bane growled, thinking that he was talking to him. He aimed a punch which was meant to hit the Joker in the stomach, but he jumped backwards and it caught him in the knee instead. The Joker winced, and Scarecrow darted forwards, realising the Joker's intention.

He was using himself as a distraction.

Scarecrow climbed up the mangled containers, his hands getting sliced by the jagged edges of the metal, as the Joker continued to dodge the blows from Bane and slice flesh where ever he could reach it. Bane couldn't get on the metal without it creaking and breaking off, giving the Joker a slight height advantage. He aimed a punch and got Bane in the head, only knocking a slight amount of sense out of him and splitting his knuckles in the process.

He was tiring, old injuries flaring up and new ones leaking blood and bruising as he stood. Bane hit the container, and he was knocked backwards from the tremors, his already bruised knee slicing against some of the rusty protruding spikes from the explosion, and heading downwards.

"Seriously, can you _hurry the fuck up_!" He hissed, and Scarecrow's bloody hand appeared at the other end of the container. The Joker reached out and grabbed it, pulling him up against Bane hitting the side of it. The impact reverberated around them as Scarecrow landed on the container on his knees.

"Sorry, it's hard to climb up with him hitting the side, I think I fell off six times."  
>The Joker laughed, "You're covered in blood."<br>"So are you."

Bane growled below them, and they stepped forward to look down at him.

"Two against one? And you say _I _don't play fair."  
>"Do it."<p>

Scarecrow pulled out the Fear Toxin.

"Remember this?"  
>Bane's eyes widened, and he started to rock the container more.<p>

"You might wanna cover your mouth."  
>"I <em>told <em>you, it doesn't affect me."

Scarecrow shrugged, "Suit yourself."

He sprayed the Toxin into Bane's face, and he staggered backwards against another container that creaked and groaned against his weight. He kept his eyes closed so that he couldn't see what was coming.

"Time to leave!" Scarecrow said, dragging the Joker with him to the side of the container where they leapt off and on to the floor. The Joker rolled, but Jonathan could tell his leg wasn't going to hold up much longer. Scarecrow dragged him to his feet, and away from Bane.

The shipping container behind them exploded, spraying Venom into the air and Bane howled in rage.

"Oh, I wondered when that one was going to go up."

"You are unbelievable."

The Joker smirked and limped after Scarecrow to the fence, and over the other side where he landed badly and winced again.

"I'm going to have to put that back in you know," Scarecrow said as they limped through the streets at an alarmingly slow pace.

"No, Jonathan is. Not you."

"Well, whatever. Jonathan is."

Behind them, a chain link fence shattered, and fast, heavy footfalls headed their way.

"Fucking hell. He doesn't give up, does he?"  
>"I don't want to say I told you so…"<br>"I know, but you will."  
>"Well, I did. Now, come on."<p>

Scarecrow grabbed his wrist and placed it over his shoulder and proceeded to half carry him through winding streets in an attempt to throw Bane off their scent. It was slow progress, and where ever they went, walls and buildings continued to burst behind them, combined with the screams of residents of Gotham and shrieks of fear from Bane.

So this was the atmosphere, Jonathan thought. It had all lead up to this. They'd brought the fight into Gotham, and Gotham was going to have to pay the price.

The Joker was panting in his ear and trying to manoeuvre his leg back into place by himself. Jonathan heard a click, and the Joker held back a scream of his own.

"It's not in, but I can run."  
>"You'll damage yourself."<br>"So will he!"

Scarecrow accepted the point and let go of the Joker, they picked up the pace running through Gotham and unknowingly heading towards the police blockade set up ahead of them.

Or maybe the flashing lights attracted them to it.

Or maybe, it was set up.

Either way, the cops were bracing themselves. And for once, it wasn't for the Joker, or for Scarecrow. It was for the thing following them.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Also (also, also), I hope I'm doing Johnny a bit more justice in these chapters. Bless him. I don't mean to leave him out... :)**


	22. Chapter 22

"Er, Johnny?"  
>"Yeah?"<br>"Is there any reason we're heading _towards _the cops?"  
>"Ah. I hoped you'd not notice that. We'll get past. They'll be too busy with him."<br>"Why's he not caught us up yet?"  
>"I'd guess from the level of destruction he's running with his eyes shut. The hallucinations are still coming, but are less violent than if he was looking around him. Things can't morph into what he fears that way."<br>"So he's tracking us using his, what, sense of smell?"  
>"Maybe. Or his hearing. The Venom enhances his senses."<br>"The Venom stinks…"  
>"It does, doesn't it?"<p>

They rounded a corner, skidding along the wet floor and the Joker gritted his teeth.

"Alright?"  
>"Erm, yeah."<br>"The 'erm' doesn't sound certain."

The Joker laughed, "Ah, Johnny. You're sweet."

"Well you do insist on calling me cupcake."  
>He laughed again and glanced back over the houses at the brick dust flying into the air.<p>

They ran on through the empty streets, hair plastered to their heads with a mixture of blood and bright green liquid. Their clothes stuck to their bodies and smelling of a mixture of smoke, rust, blood and the sickly-sweet smell of Venom. It clung to their skin like it was trying it's best to diffuse through the layer but was being rejected. The Joker imagined getting it off would be like trying to peel glue off his skin. How anyone could put it into their veins…

They skidded around another corner and the fear of a good 70 men hit Jonathan full in the face, calling Scarecrow who clawed at his consciousness fighting to get out.

"We're close to the cordon. Bane won't notice until it's too late."

"Ah, he might. If he can smell _us_…"  
>"We stink of Venom."<p>

"God, my FUCKING LEG!" The Joker shouted, and Bane changed his direction slightly to accommodate where they were, the ground shaking with his increased speed.

"Oh shit."  
>"Idiot!"<p>

They turned another corner, their breath starting to tug and burn their lungs, stitches forming in their sides and were confronted with around 70 police officers. They ran through the cordon and to Commissioner Gordon.

"I don't think I've ever been glad to see you before, Commissioner, but I am right now," The Joker panted, bent double with his hand on the Commissioner's shoulder. The other officers looked on, their fear of the one-man wrecking ball coming towards them sort of obscured slightly by the Joker treating Gordon as a friend.

"Ur, thanks," He said, confused. "You know you're both covered in blood."  
>"Ah, yeah. Thanks."<p>

"And what the hell…?"  
>"He blew up the Venom container. I know I said I'd show you where it was, but there's really no need anymore."<br>"Are you working with the cops, Johnny?"  
>"Right now, yes. Problem?"<br>"No. Sneaky. I like it."

A crash brought them back to earth, and they all turned to face the end of the alley where Bane was stumbling through.

"Why's he got his eyes shut."  
>"Fear Toxin. Which, by the way, you didn't react to!"<p>

"I _told _you this. More than once."  
>"Ah, can I just interrupt there for a second? What do we do?"<p>

Bane was standing stock still, his eyes clamped shut, trying to get his bearings. He growled, and the men shuddered collectively.

"Tranquilisers?" Jonathan suggested.

"How much?"  
>"I dunno. He's a big bloke as it is. On Venom, it's like tranq'ing an elephant."<p>

"Christ." Gordon said, his head in his hands. "Okay men, fire!"

The police officers at the front open fired on Bane, and he opened his eyes. He growled at the police, and then they turned into demon bats. He shrieked, and then rushed forward. Then men scattered.

"Keep firing!" The Joker shouted, "What the hell is wrong with these people?"

He walked up to one of the officers and grabbed the gun from his hands. He raised it to his eyeline, and Jonathan did the same. Gordon caught on, and grabbed another gun from one of the men.

They shot almost at once, Bane having already been shot with three or four that hadn't missed. He turned and narrowed his eyes at where they were standing, but they were glazed and unfocused.

"I reckon one more will do it," Jonathan said, fumbling with the gun.

"I've got it," the Joker said, and he smirked. "Come on then, Bane! What did I tell you?"  
>"You," Bane said, slowly and slurring his words. "Are an idiot."<p>

"Hah, yeah. Keep telling yourself that."

He squeezed the trigger and the dart hit its target in his shoulder. The Joker laughed, and Bane fell forwards into the concrete.

"Ooh, that's a tooth breaker!" he said, turning to smile at Jonathan.

Johnny had taken off his mask and looked haggard, and tired. He was pale, sweating and covered in crap. He leant forwards to breathe, and ended up being sick by the tyres of one of the vehicles. He looked up and caught the Joker's eye, then his expression changed.

"J!"

The Joker felt a searing pain in his hip as Bane reached out to hit him, or maybe to grab him, and managed to push the bone from the socket. He crumpled in a heap next to Bane, who'd finally been knocked out.

Jonathan ran forwards and picked the Joker up, supporting the injured leg with his own, pushing some of the hair out of the caked blood to survey the deep gash on the side of his head.

"Is he okay?" Gordon said, coming up behind them.

Jonathan laughed, "He always is. But he'll need stitches, and a tetanus shot, and I'm going to have to take my life into my hands again by setting his leg… again."

"I'll give you 72 hours."  
>"Hmm?"<br>"Then I'll start the search. Sort out whatever you have to."  
>"Thank you, Commissioner."<p>

"Try and stay out of trouble."  
>"You too. You're the one dealing with Bane, after all."<p>

Jonathan dragged the Joker into the shadows as Gordon ordered his force to start the clear up. This was a damned mess, indeed. And frankly, 72 hours without having to think about the Joker would do him the world of good.

"Where're we going, Johnny?"  
>"The only place I can think of."<p>

"My leg hurts."  
>"It will. What about your head?"<p>

"That's okay… did I hurt my head?"  
>"Bane punched you in the face."<br>"Oh yeah," the Joker said, and he giggled softly. "I guess that's blood, not just Venom."  
>"You guessed right."<p>

Jonathan half carried the Joker through the gates of Wayne manor, and the Joker frowned.

"Wayne Manor?"  
>"Yes."<br>"How?"  
>"I'm not <em>that<em> stupid, J. I can work things out too, you know."

"I never thought you were stupid."  
>"Good to know."<p>

Jonathan knocked on the door, and the Joker leant against the doorframe, sweat pouring from his body into his already soaked clothes. Jonathan glanced over his shoulder, and when he was sure the coast was clear, he rapped his knuckles against the door again. He winced, and the Joker grabbed his wrist, opening his palm and looking at the deep, serrated cuts there that were trying their best to clot, despite their positioning.

"Don't close your palms."  
>"Hard to knock on a door without doing that, to be honest."<p>

The Joker smacked his fist against the door a couple of times, wincing, and then clutched Johnny's shoulder hard enough to bruise. Jonathan was just about to get the gun out of the Joker's pocket and shoot the fucking thing when the door swung open, and they were confronted with a very confused looking English gentleman.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: To all the American's in the house, I really _am _sorry that I can't do the language. I have too much of a regional accent to manage it, unfortunately. I hope it doesn't ruin it _too_ much for you. I am trying. Honest. :)**

**Thanks for reading til now. This is where shit gets weird. **

**Well, sorta. ;)**


	23. Chapter 23

Alfred took a couple of seconds to work out whether or not he was really standing looking at Scarecrow and the Joker on his doorstep. When he realised that actually, yes, he was, and this wasn't a dream, he was no further forward in figuring out what to actually do.

Then Scarecrow spoke.

"Hi, can we come in?"  
>"No."<br>"Seriously. Urm, we just… he's hurt."  
>"And why should I care?"<br>"He… he went after Bane."

Alfred glanced at the Joker, who raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. He took in the fact that the man was sweating profusely, that they were both covered in blood and that his jaw was clenched so tightly that he _had _to be in a great deal of pain.

"We just need somewhere to get fixed up. And… well… I think J would like to see Batman. Bruce. After all, he did just risk his life in vengeance for him."

Alfred sighed. No one had come to see Bruce, not that his 'friends' in the real world knew that he'd been injured yet, of course, but he'd expected that Selina woman who was stealing from the mobs to have popped in. Or Gordon. Not that it'd help when he was in a painkiller coma. Just, the thought of it at least. He hadn't expected the only people to 'care' to be his greatest enemies.

He supposed that had to count for something.

"Okay. But all weapons are left at the door."  
>"Thank you," Jonathan said, before slinging his arm under the Joker and dragging him to his feet. Or, at least to his one good foot.<p>

Jonathan pulled the Fear Toxin and kitchen knife out of his pocket, shoving them into a fruit bowl on a table inside the door. The Joker pulled a few razor cards out of his pocket, an electric shock buzzer, four or five knives and the gun out and dumped them in the bowl. He then took a potato peeler out and dumped the acid flower in too. Alfred looked curiously at it.

"It spits acid. I, ah, wouldn't touch it if I was you."

Alfred's eyebrows rose slightly, and then the Joker looked at Jonathan.  
>"I have a knife strapped to the working leg. Can you get it out?"<br>Jonathan cringed, but lifted the Joker's trouser leg and pulled the knife out of it's sheath and placed it into the bowl.

"Anything else?"  
>"Just the ones in my shoes."<br>"You had the knife shoes on and you didn't use them?" Jonathan asked, and then tutted as he removed the Joker's shoes. "Seriously J, forward planning."  
>"Didn't get chance."<p>

"Fucking hell."

Alfred led the way into the kitchen (where the floors were easiest to clean) and Jonathan carried the Joker through.

"Right. Leg."

The Joker narrowed his eyes, "I changed my mind. I'd rather you _didn't _touch it."  
>"I knew I should've popped it back in straight away. Alfred, I know I'm asking a lot here, but would you mind holding him down."<br>"No way. Noo." The Joker said, trying to move backwards and ending up falling on his arse.

"Now, come on J, you can't stay like that forever."  
>"I'm sure I could."<p>

"Stop being ridiculous."

"No!"

The Joker hit the wall, and then looked at Alfred.

"I will have to kill you if you come any closer. I'm not joking, here."

"Stop being dramatic, J. Just grab his shoulders."

Alfred, kneeling slightly to the side grabbed the Joker's shoulders and pushed him back into the wall.

"Just concentrate on hating me. It'll hurt less."

Jonathan laughed, before positioning the Joker's leg in the right place and then pushing it back into the socket. The Joker's yell travelled the house, and Alfred let go of his shoulders. He lay with his head against the wall, panting.

"Better?"  
>"No, it hurts like fuck."<br>"I have co-codamol, if you want it?"  
>"I'll be fine."<br>"Take it, J."

"Fuck you, Jonathan."

Jonathan laughed, "Mind if he uses a shower?"  
>"Third door on the right."<br>"Go on, clean yourself up. I'll stitch up and give you a tetanus shot when you come out of the shower."  
>"Great," the Joker muttered, hauling himself to his feet and heading out of the door.<p>

"I'll bring you some clothes, too. I'll nip home."

"Whatever."

Alfred and Jonathan exchanged a glance.

"He's not always like that. Well, he's always irritating, but not always moody. He doesn't like me popping bones back."  
>"Have you had to do it before?"<br>"Yeah, Bruce dislocated it the first time."  
>"I've no doubt he deserved it."<br>"He probably did, yeah." Jonathan stood up, "I'm gonna go and get some clean clothes and make sure the hamsters fed. Mind if we stay here tonight?"  
>"Erm?"<br>"Great. I won't be long. If he comes out of the shower before I'm back, don't be alarmed." 

And before Alfred could ask what Jonathan meant by that, he had walked down the corridor and out of the door back into the night. Alfred sighed, and went to check on Bruce and keep an eye out in case the Joker tried to break anything.


	24. Chapter 24

The Joker turned on the shower and turned down the heat. Batsy must have skin like a fucking lizard, he thought to himself as he stepped under the spray. The water stung his cuts and grazes, but felt good on his aching muscles.

He grabbed some posh soap from the soap tray and lathered it into his skin, turning lastly to his face where it took him three or four lathers before he managed to remove all of the blood and make-up, the water finally running clear and not white, or black, or red. He poked at the cut on the side of his head and winced. It felt fairly nasty.

Noticing the shampoo, he picked up the bottle and squirted some on to his palm, before massaging it into his throbbing scalp, careful to prevent the soap getting into the cut. He watched as green ran out and down the drain. It wouldn't be enough to remove all trace of the hair-dye, but would certainly dull it. When he was done, it hung around his face, sticking to the skin and curling.

He wanted to get out of the shower, but couldn't be bothered. His hip was throbbing, his head was aching, the deep cut slicing his leg was stinging and he was _tired_. He leant against the tiles, steam billowing and filling the room, the warmth of the water relaxing him. He looked down at his toes, still slightly swollen and reddened from the night he kicked the wall in at Arkham. He could see the scars from where Jonathan had stitched him up the last time he was hurt, and suddenly he felt that _thing _in his stomach again, gnawing away at him. He figured it was guilt. Something that was born from the urge to die, the thought he had nothing left when Jonathan was still saving his arse around every corner in every situation.

The door opened, and Johnny walked in.

"Jesus, you'll shrivel up in there!"

The Joker laughed, and Jonathan smiled – he'd known the shower would help life his spirits.

"I'll leave the clothes on the floor and will be in the kitchen when you come down. I thought you'd died in here. I've managed to pick up some stuff _and _shower in the time it's taken you to wash yourself. I know you're not used to it, but come on!"

Jonathan narrowly avoided the sponge that was thrown at him from the annoyed looking man who had just yanked the shower curtain back, and he closed the door before he got an eyeful of something he really didn't need to see.

The Joker stepped out of the shower and dried himself with a towel, avoiding being too rough with the cuts that were still leaking blood. Jonathan had brought him a loose t shirt and some shorts, probably for easy access to the gash on his leg. He had to give it to Johnny, the man thought of everything. He shook his head like a dog and water splattered to floor, joining the footprint shaped puddles already there.

The Joker stepped out of the bathroom, clothed, his hair hanging in damp curls around his face and almost walked into Alfred. They stood, inches apart, and Alfred's eyes widened as his eyebrows shot up his forehead. The Joker licked his lips and cocked his head, curiously.

"Ah, yes?"

Alfred blinked a couple of times.

"Just wasn't expecting you to look so, _human_."

Alfred wanted to take back his words as soon as they came out of his mouth, but the Joker cracked a smile and laughed, patting him on the shoulder.

"We're all full of surprises, eh?"

They walked down the corridor together, Alfred glancing at the man walking beside him. He was so _young_. Late twenties at most. His skin would be tanned if it ever reached the sun, and there were freckles across his nose. His hair was blond under the dye, most of it having washed out in the shower. And other than the ugly looking scars running from his mouth up into his cheeks, he was just a normal bloke in shorts and a baggy t shirt, placid, tired, and surrounded by an aura of calm. It was bizarre.

"How is he?"  
>"Still comatose."<br>"Can I see him?"  
>"Well, yes. But we'll let Dr Crane fix you up first or else he'll be upset at me."<p>

The Joker chuckled, "Johnny's always upset. It's nothing new."  
>"No, but you are dripping blood on to the floors."<p>

The Joker glanced over his shoulder.

"So I am. Sorry about that."

Alfred's paternal instinct kicked in despite himself and he wanted to reach out and pat the shoulder of the broken man standing beside him. He was no age to be in the state he was in, and, being tall, Alfred had an inch on him (the same height as Bruce, his brain helpfully added) so he had the slight illusion of looking down on him, wisely, as the Joker slouched when he was walking, and the limping emphasised this, whereas he stood tall. He easily towered over Crane, but he was short anyway. Alfred wondered whether that was why the Joker tolerated Crane's presence. Whether it was an illusion of power, someone to look down on, someone to make him seem more powerful.

But then the Joker sat down in a chair and smiled at Crane warmly, nothing like his usual smirk or leer, and sat still while Crane poked at his head and leg with alcohol wipes. He didn't even fidget when Crane was shoving the needle through the cuts. And Alfred never imagined him to be the kind of man to sit still.

He supposed even psychopaths needed friends, sometimes.

"Alright, cupcake. My turn with the needle."

Crane laughed, "As if."

Alfred smiled in spite of himself, "Give me a look."

Crane held out his palms and the Joker unhelpfully poked and prodded at the cuts. Alfred frowned.

"I'm not sure we can stitch palms. Have you got any glue? We can use that and steri-strips and hope for the best."

The Joker passed over the glue, and Alfred applied it to the already cleaned cuts.

"I dunno how you managed to hold the needle still," Alfred said and Crane shrugged.

"I injected some anaesthetic in there."

"Any other injuries?"

"Just bruises. I need to do the tetanus shots though."

Alfred rolled his eyes, "It'd be my pleasure, really. I've wanted to stick something sharp into this bastard for a while."

The Joker laughed, "I've made that much of an impression, have I?"  
>"You have no idea how many times I've had to fix Bruce's failed attempts at self-medicating and the hassle it causes," he muttered, flicking the end of the needle. "Arm."<p>

The Joker held out his arm and Alfred pushed the needle under the surface of the skin, his finger applying gentle pressure to the plunger until the syringe was empty, whereby he removed the needle and flicked it into the conveniently placed sharps bin.

He picked up the second needle, and Crane held out his arm for him to do the same.

"Thanks," he said, and Alfred smiled tightly.

"Now, is anyone hungry?"  
>"Yeah," The Joker said, and Jonathan nodded.<p>

"I'll see what I can do."

"Hey, Alfred?" The Joker said.

"Hmm?"  
>"I like you."<p>

Alfred smiled.

"I hate to think of the implications of those words…"

The Joker laughed.

"Nice fella."

Jonathan smiled, and glanced down at the Joker's bare feet. He groaned, loudly.

"What?" The Joker asked, confused.

"Your toe is practically on its side!"

The Joker looked at it and laughed, flexing them slightly.

"Oh yeah. So it is."  
>"That's gonna need resetting. Alfred? Have you got any surgical tape?"<p>

Alfred's head popped back into the room.

"Yes, why?"  
>"His toe needs strapping up too."<br>"Dunno why you didn't do it in the first place," The Joker muttered.

"Oh, well then, genius, why didn't you think of it?"  
>Alfred disappeared again, "I'll go get it."<p>

When he'd come and gone again, back to the safety of the kitchen, Jonathan kneeled down and prodded at the Joker's toe.  
>"This is gonna hurt."<br>"You seem to say that a lot."

"Only around you. You're a walking disaster."

He prodded a bit longer and the Joker sighed,

"What's taking so long?"

"I'd just rather not be knocked out if I cause you pain."  
>The Joker rolled his eyes and lifted his foot up. He grabbed hold of the little toe and twisted it round with a nasty cracking and popping sound. Once he was sure it was in the right place, he dropped his foot to the floor again for Crane to handle.<p>

"Barely felt it."

Jonathan began dutifully strapping the toe to the one next to it, all the while wondering why he bothered.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Boo! Me again. I'm being irritating, in't ah? Just wanted to pass a little thanks along to everyone who's been reading so far (the traffic on this has been, well, _ incredible_ to say the least) and a BIG thanks to everyone who's reviewed. Now, I know I usually send PM's to everyone who reviews thanking you for your niceness and babbling on nonsense about my life and brain but I have a person called KNO3 on here who has disabled their PM system. Can you imagine? Anyway, it's cutting me up inside so if you're not them, feel free to stop reading right now. No, really, it's fine. Honest.  
>Here goes: Thank you! I do the syntax thing slightly on purpose because of that exact fact lmao. I'm a Brit personally, but I'm a northerner so that's probably why the accent's a little hard to distinguish. I do <em>try<em> to hide it, but things slip through! ;) Anyway, I'm glad you're enjoying the story and, yeah, keep up the reading.  
>:) FS. <strong>


	25. Chapter 25

They sat drinking coffee and eating toasties around the table in silence.

"I have a proposition," Jonathan said, and the Joker narrowed his eyes. "Well, for both of you, really?"  
>"Johnny?"<br>"What is it?" Alfred asked.

Jonathan pulled a small vial out of his pocket, it glowed green and the Joker instantly recognised it, the ghost of the smell filling his nostrils and making him want to throw up, all of a sudden. Funny how that happened. You can be surrounded by blood and entrails and puke and corpses and not be bothered, but the sickly sweet smell of _that_ stuff lurked for days…

"Venom?"  
>"Not really."<br>"What then?"  
>"I isolated the healing part. This is all I have, it was slow work but I perfected it before we left. Figured we might need it. Now, really, we're not <em>that<em> injured."  
>"Speak for yourself," the Joker muttered. Jonathan ignored him.<p>

"What I thought was, well, we could give it to Bruce."

There was silence.

"What?" The Joker asked, his voice at that dangerous level where he was trying to stay calm. "Give him _Venom_? He's not getting addicted to that stuff!"

"He won't. I didn't."

"What?"

"I spent days perfecting it on myself. I would cut my arm, take it, see if it helped." He rolled up his sleeve to show the faint white scars.

"Johnny, you're crazy," the Joker muttered, his eyes flickering greedily to the vile in his hands and a smirk playing across his lips.

"Not really. I'm the only subject I could trust, and I could hardly use Frank with your death threat hanging over me."

The Joker chuckled despite himself.

"Basically, I don't know if it'll work. His injuries are far worse than a few cuts. But, it might speed up the process slightly, if nothing else. Worth a try, eh?"

The Joker's face had lit up, and he'd started to twitch in the chair. Before he could control himself, he started giggling, and jumped out of the chair, wandering off and into the garden. Then the singing started.

"_You think I'm pretty, without any make-up on. You think I'm funny, when I tell the punch line wrong. I know you get me, so I let my walls come down, down…"_

Jonathan rolled his eyes.

"Katy Perry, again." He sighed, and looked up at the old man sat across from him. "You think that the incessant singing will drive you mad. But _then_ he'll go into a mood and stop, and then the silence eats away at you. I don't know why I didn't just let Bane kill him, to be honest."

Alfred raised his eyebrows, "I don't know how you do it."  
>"I'm… I <em>was<em> a psychologist in Arkham, you learn to gain the patience of a saint when dealing with people who are a little… unhinged."

"You don't count yourself in that?"

Jonathan shrugged, "Maybe that's why I can deal with him."

They both looked outside to the Joker who was spinning around in the garden, his arms in the air.

"_My. Heart. Stops. When you look at me. Just. One. Touch. Now baby I believe. This. Is. Real. So take a chance and don't ever look back, don't ever look back._"

Alfred glanced at Jonathan.

"I hope that's not the first thing Bruce hears when he wakes up. Can you imagine?" Jonathan said. "He chooses the songs deliberately. _Teenage Dream _serenaded by the Joker to the great Bat-man."  
>"He can hold a tune better than I'd've thought, to his credit. You don't expect that voice to be able to keep to a harmony."<p>

Jonathan snorted a laugh.

"You have no idea… He doesn't, most of the time. Just makes up his own tune. It's worse when he gets the guitar out too. You're trying to work and he's sat in the corner singing for hours on end. He does it on purpose. I'm convinced."

There was a pause, and both men sipped their coffee.

"By the way, why did you offer to give that… stuff… to Bruce? He was the one who took you down, the one who got you committed. The one who made you lose your mind."

Crane looked up into Alfred's eyes, his hair falling into the piercing blue, and then he glanced outside at the Joker, a tight smile on his lips.

"To be honest, I just want things to be back to normal."


	26. Chapter 26

By the time the Joker had stopped being a pest and came back inside, Jonathan had decided on the quantity and length of time to give the Venom to Bruce over. Alfred looked concerned as he drew it up into a syringe, and the Joker picked up on it, stopping the incessant licking of his lips for a second to attempt a reassuring smile.

"Don't worry; he knows if it kills Batsy, I'll kill him." He slapped Jonathan on the shoulder, and he nearly squirted the compound out of the top of the needle.

Jonathan glanced sideways at the Joker and glowered.

"It won't. Like I said, I've tested it. I have the compound marked out and recorded at home, it's just not easy to synthesize from scratch. So try not to make me spill it, okay?"

"Uh-huh. Just inject it, already."

Jonathan placed the needle on to Bruce's skin with both Alfred and the Joker hovering over his shoulders.

"You're blocking the light."

Alfred and the Joker stepped back, and Jonathan could breathe again. The needle slipped easily below the skin and into the vein. Jonathan pressed down the plunger, and then withdrew the needle, pressing some cotton wool against the puncture mark. The room held its breath.

It became apparent after ten minutes that nothing was happening. Jonathan's shoulders slumped, and he sighed.

"I never said it'd work," he said to no one in particular.

Alfred patted him on the back, and adopted a kind voice.

"I know. You tried; it's more than anyone else has done. Now come on, I'll make you a cup of tea."

Jonathan nodded and followed Alfred to the door, feeling like the dejected little kid he once was, all of the memories of being bullied and being rejected and sitting on his own in the lunch room for some reason coming back to haunt him right at that moment. He wanted to reach out, but the closest person he had was the Joker and he couldn't imagine him being particularly sympathetic, really. What had happened in the past was right there anyway and look at him now. he'd done more than anyone could wish for.

_Somehow, I don't think people would take success as ending up in Arkham, Jonathan._

Fuck off, he thought, the snarky little voice grating inside his head. He tried to clear the fog of gloom that had descended, that had surrounded him for a lot of his life.

"J, you coming?"

The Joker continued to sit cross legged on the bed, staring intently at Bruce's face.

"J?"

Jonathan didn't know if the Joker really couldn't hear him, or if he was purposefully ignoring him. So instead of getting mad he stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him.

The Joker waited until he could hear the footsteps die out at the end of the hall before speaking.

"Hey. How ya doing?"

He pursed his lips and frowned, his face as expressive as ever even without the make-up. He licked his lips.

"Okay, stupid question. What I meant _was_ why aren't you awake yet? I mean, come _on_, it's sheer laziness. And here I am, sat at the foot of your bed like an ever faithful _dog_ while you ignore me. It's not fair, Batsy. It's breaking my heart."

He shifted slightly, never one for sitting still for a long time.

"Bruce Wayne. Ah, you know, I've known a _while_. I told ya, didn't I? On that rooftop before you dislocated my hip. Happened again, by the way, when I was fighting Bane for you. He'll escape soon, but I'll get him. No one breaks my Bat."

Bruce could hear voices, his mind hazy, cloudy.

"Not even me. You're too fun. But look at you. Bruce Wayne! You're perfect, you know that? Exactly what I'd hoped for. And _great _disguise. No one but me would suspect. Johnny did guess, but he's a good guy. And I trust him, right? He didn't isolate that stuff wrong, he doesn't do _anything _wrong. So what're you waiting for, hmm?"

Bruce was listening to one voice now. His mouth was dry and his whole body felt numb. Then the pain started. He hadn't felt pain before. Pain meant he was healing and he'd heard enough from Alfred and Lucius' muttered conversations to know he wasn't going to heal. He'd lost the will to live, and blocked everything out. Slipping into an unnecessary coma. But something was drawing him out. Like a moth to a flame. That _voice_.

"Come on, Batsy. _Darling_." He drew the word out like it was something to savour, and then lowered his tone to a whisper. "Wake up. For me."

Bruce's eyes shot open and he yelled from a mixture of the shock and the _agony_ he was in. He panted, and the Joker's face lit up.

"JOHNNY!"

Alfred and Jonathan were already sprinting down the hallway after the scream when they heard the Joker's jubilant shout.

"What's he done?"  
>"I don't think he'd do anything!"<br>"Think? You left him alone in there!"

"Shh, shh, shh," The Joker cooed, sitting back on the bottom of the bed, his legs crossed, his demeanour calm other than that demented smirk across his lips.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Bruce croaked.

"Recovering. Same as you."  
>"What?"<br>"Bane. Same as you."

Hazy memories of being thrown through the air, caught, and then smashed flickered through his head. Pain, and then nothing. He tried to sit up, but the Joker's hand restrained him, softly.

"Don't move. I just had to reset my toe because I moved that when it was healing. I don't think resetting your back will be that easy."  
>"Where's Alfred?"<br>"I dunno. Kitchen, I think. I haven't _hurt _him, if that's what you mean."

Confusion etched Bruce's face.

"Did you just call me _darling_?"

The Joker started to laugh, and the door was hurled open to reveal a tired looking Alfred and Jonathan Crane. Alfred stopped dead, a huge smile lighting up his face. Jonathan's eyes widened. The Joker turned to look at Jonathan as Alfred hurried to the bed to pass Bruce some water.

"You did good, Johnny."

Jonathan laughed, the realisation that what he'd done had worked flooding his system and intoxicating his brain, and the Joker joined in.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hey. Yeah. Sad to have to say it, really, but we're nearing the end. In fact, I'll probably end this tonight. (I know, what am I gonna do without it?) It's all written, it just needs posting, after all. I may shed a tear...**

**Anyway, personal communication time again. KNO3: Thanks again for the review, you put a lot into that. I appreciate it. And of course when I get time I'll read and review that. It'd be my pleasure! And if you wanna do what you suggested, be my guest. Although I do only have one chapter to go now (for reasons of avoiding getting too far out of character and the perfect ending in my head), but go ahead and do one of the whole story or of the last couple if you like and have the time to do so. I'd be more than pleased to read it! (unless it mentions my over-use of commas of course. I hate it when people do that and I'm like the worst person in the world for it. I'm aware of it. I just can't break the habit. ;) Anyway I'm rambling. I'll shut up.) **


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: Boo! So, ah, yeah. This is the final chapter. Wow. I'm... humbled, to say... Nah, sorry. I sound really fucking sarcastic don't I? LOL. I've been trying to channel the Joker too much. Anyway. I do appreciate all the feedback, all the traffic, and just generally being here. I've loved every minute of writing this (it's been a lovely escape from the real world) and frankly, have met some friends during the process (y'know who you are, kidda). **

**Anyway, just a foreword to say if you haven't heard the tracks_ Example - Something in the Water_, and_ Don Diablo ft Example - Hooligans (VIP Mix)_ then I'd recommend listening to them before you read this. Just to get the _feel_ of it into your head. **

**But aye, I'm outta here cupcakes so look after yourselves and be good and all that shite.  
>At least I've left you with a <em>longgg <em>chapter, which, quite frankly could be the best thing I've ever written.  
><strong>

**So, from me (and Frank) it's goodbye.**

**Until next time, eh?**

**FS**

* * *

><p>Batman was confused, to say the least. Because everywhere around him in Gotham people were dancing. Proper hard core raving, too. Covered in sweat, panting and exhausted, their bodies writhed and twisted to the rhythm of some inaudible beat that, for some reason he wasn't caught up in. He put his head in his hands and sighed, passing women with make-up smeared down their faces crying out to him for help, sweat mingling with tears and bodies that had fallen still twitching while lying on the floor like they were doing some sort of break dance.<p>

It'd been a gruelling three months of tense recovery since the Joker had so rudely awoken him from his lovely, calm coma with the word 'darling', managing to effectively smash him back into reality with a very surprised bang. Every time he'd mentioned it since when he just _happened_ to come across him when he was getting checked out in the hospital, or doing some shopping the Joker had giggled and shrugged his shoulders, pouting like a teenage girl and fluttering his eye lashes. Frankly, it was creepy.

What was creepier was that he hadn't killed anyone for a while. This is a man who poured digitalis into men's drinks and then cut said men open when they went into ventricular fibrillation just so he could see the chaos. A man who'd gotten on a bus and got upset by the smell of a man's sandwich and elbow touching and so carved out his throat, covering the back half in blood. He'd then got bored of being a passenger, and so dragged the drive out of the cab, slit _his _throat so to cover the _front _half of the bus in blood, hacked into his stomach so his entrails were hanging out and then managed to catch the bus before it ploughed into a third car, taking the poor civilians of Gotham on a half hour wild ride through the streets of the Narrows being chased by the police and cackling, blood tastefully decorating the windows, before he crashed it into a wall and somehow managed to escape unscathed and vanish into the streets. A man who, in Arkham, had strangled a man with his own tie and then stuck a pen into his eyes. And another into his jugular. There was always so much blood with him…

And _now_ he had Crane with him. There should be untold destruction. There had to be a reason they'd helped him heal faster, and if that reason wasn't that they wanted to make his life a living hell then what was it? He should be chasing them all day and night. And yet, nothing. Gotham was calm. The super villains had retreated back into the woodwork from whence they came, and Bruce was completely stumped as to why.

He hadn't so much as seen the Joker and Crane together since the night that the Joker had woken him up. They'd stuck around a bit for the explanation of what had gone on from Alfred, but the Joker was awkward and twitchy, probably feeling naked without his war-paint and now that Bruce was awake, the sense he'd outstayed his welcome. Bruce was fairly sure the only reason he was there at all was that he was waiting for Crane to finish gloating. And yet, throughout the three months it had taken him to recover, nothing. No explosions, no gassing, no Fear Toxin in the cocaine… Nothing. So why on earth did they seem so pally before if they weren't working together?

He supposed there was the fact that the Joker had three broken toes, copious bruising, two stitched cuts and a recently (doubly) returned hip into its socket and that he was probably healing too. That and Crane couldn't use his palms until they were healed up, so probably couldn't do any experiments. But the quiet worried him. Three months was a long time for two psychopaths to be cocking up some plan to cause devastation. He tried to reassure himself that this was the Joker, and even an ex-psychiatrist (especially one with mental health issues himself) couldn't stand to be around him for that amount of time, so maybe they'd had an argument and weren't sitting in an apartment somewhere bouncing crazy ideas off each other and building mental things that he dared not even think about.

But for some reason his gut instinct told him differently. They were helping each other out, making each other stronger and neither would want to give that up over a petty argument. So as soon as he was back up to speed Bruce donned his bat-suit and headed out on to the streets.

And yet, still nothing except a couple of drug dealers and some kid trying to mug an old lady at knife point. And he was so terrified that he'd dropped the knife and started sobbing for his mother as soon as Bruce had touched down behind the old lady, who'd promptly hit the kid with her handbag, and then limped off into the darkness.

Well, nothing other than the recorded message he got when he returned to the cave later that night feeling faintly dejected, guilty about feeling dejected and with the idea that he needed to get back into his former shape in his head. He was convinced he was slower and far less agile than he was before. And his back was still tender.

"_Aww, don't worry Brucie, you're fine as you are. Better than fine, in fact! I take it the, ah, _game_ is back on…?" _

The recording sent tinny laughter out into the room, and then the singing started.

"_Just sitting here, chilling in the Batcave, whilst listening to Nick Cave. Last night was a sick rave, eh? Used to be Elliot, now it's just a nickname." _

Bruce was instantly suspicious, his senses on red alert. Was the Joker here? What was he going to do? Could he outfight him? And why did he keep _hitting _on him?

Bruce shuddered, replaying the singing at the end of the tape. Elliot? Was that the Joker's name? Maybe he should've tried to get some information out of Crane when they were at the manor. His mind instantly assumed he'd be the easier target, but then he shook his head. Crane had spent years in Arkham experimenting with mentally unstable patients without anyone noticing, manipulating people into thinking he was just a normal guy getting through life. He'd been dosed with his own toxin and sent insane, and he had a pretty nasty alter-ego hiding in the shadows of his brain. He was pretty sure he'd be equally as good at withholding information as the Joker was. Bruce got Google up on the screen while the scans searched the cave and the house, for any intruders.

Nothing. No one there and the song was just a song. The lyrics matched up. His fame must have reached across the pond to England where some rapper was including it in his songs as a 'cool' lyric. The Batcave. What a stupid name. Who the hell came up with that? It was almost insulting, like a kid had thought of it or something. Bruce wondered if he should start calling his car the 'Batmobile' or something. Get it painted down the side so everyone could see that he was living in a fucking comic book written by a tool.

Bruce sighed and sat down in the chair. He was getting paranoid…

The next night there was a bomb scare down town. Bruce rushed to it, thinking that the Joker was starting the mindless killing again, and got there just in time…

…To witness the bombs explode and shoot green and purple streamers into the air like giant party poppers. He stood with Gordon, scratching his head, and the Joker never appeared. Not even to point and laugh. It was frightening.

The next day, half the cars in Gotham had flat tyres. And all the spares had been stolen. Each flat had a J, and a symbol from a card deck carved into it. The tyres were found in the river, all joined together by rope, the top one, somehow, floating on the surface. Bruce didn't even want to think about how and why the Joker would do this. The last time he was in charge of a large vehicle bad things had happened. In fact, all of the times he'd been in a large vehicle bad things had happened. He must've let Crane drive.

Two days later Bane escaped Arkham. That night half of the streets were painted purple, and a big sign calling for Bane's attention shone out into the streets drawing people from far and wide who didn't seem to think that a Joker threat area was somewhere they should stay away from. Sometimes Bruce despaired.

_Hey._

_Ah, let's keep this sweet. Batsy's okay, I'm okay, Scarecrow's okay, and we're all rather pissed at you. Watch yourself, Bane. You never know what could happen. _

_J & S._

Three days after that, Batman apprehended Bane in an alleyway. He was laughing so hard he was crying, and clutched Bruce's hand like a lifeline. He seemed to have shrunk since the last time Bruce had encountered him, too, the hysterical mannerism and lack of super muscle making him far less intimidating than the last time they'd met. Bruce called Gordon, and Bane willingly headed back to Arkham, thanking Batman for his compassion. Gordon wondered out loud when the so-called super villains had turned into cranks. Bruce murmured that it was better than the Joker murdering people, while secretly thinking that at least he knew where he _was_ when the Joker was murdering people…

The next night, a message was sprawled on the walls for him. It just read 'darling'. Over and over again in red paint, heading in a specific direction with the letters set out in the shape of arrows. Bruce cringed, and then followed them, coming to a package at the end of it.

"_Yours. Forever, honey."_

His curiosity got the better of him and he opened it. A short, sharp electric shock shot up his arm and he pulled it back, swearing loudly. Inside was a jar, a heart in it still beating on its own even outside the body of… well, where ever he'd gotten the damn thing from. Bruce growled. What the hell was he _playing at_?

And so that's where he was now, wandering the streets of Gotham listening to the morbidly obese wheeze, and the click of stilettos clanging out against the background rumble of feet hitting pavement as everyone danced. He wondered if that was the Joker's plan. To drive him mad by just being so damn _unpredictable_.

A loud crackle made the people start, still dancing in the streets, glancing around and trying to see where it had come from.

And then the _music _started. And it pumped out of everywhere possible.

Bruce felt like he wanted to cry.

"_I see them come, I see them go, been coming here since I don't know. Come to play, here to talk, or are they here to simply show? Sense of danger, bunch of strangers, simply staring 'cross the room. Pretty soon they'll taste the water and it ought to change their tune."_

The dancers were raving to the beat, it infected them; crawling beneath their skin and into their brains, taking over. He called up his communication system to Alfred and Lucius.

"Don't drink the water!"

Lucius' voice came back at him, "Thanks for the warning Bruce, but we got the memo. It's broadcasting everywhere."

"Where are they?"  
>"They?"<br>"Oh, come on. Something in the water? That has Crane stamped all over it. The Joker's just managed to twist it into his own sick idea. The bloody dancing… Crane would never do that of his own volition."  
>"I believe the signal is transmitting from the nightclub in the centre of the city where the strobe lights are coming from."<p>

Bruce sighed,

"I should've guessed, really… He's always been theatrical."  
>"Yeah. Good luck, Bruce."<p>

"Thanks," he muttered, and shut down the line.

At least the Joker was _doing _something. His head felt clearer already. He just hoped whatever he was playing at wouldn't be in any way fatal. Although, he did wonder if his obsession with the Joker doing something was making him as bad as the Joker was. Was he encouraging it? If someone did die, would it be his fault?

"_They take a sip and lick their lips, start to shake their hips. Dance the night away, the gangsters put their knives away, the water drowns the fights away, I'm really liking life today. But don't let it confuse you when they wake, they'll all be back to usual. _

_There's something in the water, like oh! I think there's something in the water, like oh! I try to stop me drinking it, but now I come to think of it, there's something in the water I can't say no!"_

Bruce started to sprint, and was in the club before he knew it, and not even out of breath! Maybe he really _was _okay. He made his way through the crowds of exhausted and frightened dancers calling out to him for help to the centre stage - an inch thick glass box with the ventilation coming from the street and speakers on the outside so the clubbers could hear what the DJ or band were playing without any risk passing to them.

Gotham was a risky city, after all.

The Joker and Scarecrow were singing into microphones, their bodies crashing into each other as they danced back to back, Scarecrow holding a bottle of champagne which was being passed and forth as their singing and the music passed over through the speakers into the crowd. Bruce felt himself thinking that they weren't half bad really, before really realising that it wasn't karaoke and that he himself was heading for Arkham if he didn't snap himself out whatever mind game the Joker was playing on him. He'd been out of a job for too long…

He strode forwards, and the Joker noticed him through the dry ice and dance lights for the first time. His face cracked into a grin, and he grabbed Crane's shoulder, pointing. Crane pulled off the Scarecrow mask, smiling with equally as much demented glee. Bruce felt fear for the first time. That was a good sign. It'd speed him up.

"What've you done?"

The Joker turned down the music, motioning to his ears while the crowd kept dancing.

"Sorry, bit loud in here. I, ah, didn't catch that."  
>"What have you done?"<br>"Oh, nothing, nothing. Just bringing the residents of Gotham a little fun. You should try it, Batsy. Grab a drink."  
>"I don't think so. How long will it last?"<br>Crane shrugged, "Shouldn't be too long. Another hour at most, probably."

Bruce growled, "And what about the elderly? The overweight?"  
>"What about them?"<br>"They'll die of exhaustion! People are already on the floor in the street!"  
>"They should use their water filters, then," Crane said, and he laughed. "Or, you know, use bottled water like you do."<p>

Bruce sighed, he knew that the Joker and Crane being in his house would never lead to anything good. Even if they weren't attacking him directly they could still use certain things against him.

"Why are you doing this?"  
>"What?"<br>"The easy stuff. The tricks. You've not actually _done _anything! You're just being a nuisance!"

He caught himself just after his words had slipped out. It all made sense, the out of character tricks, the lack of violence, the come-ons. He was trying to make him lose it.

The Joker giggled.

"It almost sounds like you _want_ me to go back to mindless slaughter."  
>"You're driving me insane!"<p>

Again, Bruce answered before he'd thought better of it and wondered whether the Joker had slipped him something too. The Joker smirked. He'd won already.

"Join the club," Crane said, and the Joker shoved him playfully.

The crowd were raving harder, but Bruce couldn't make out the song they were dancing too. Crane took a swig from the champagne bottle and then started moving to the beat again, dancing like the rest of them but of his own free will, jumping up and down. The Joker laughed, pointing,

"See, _Johnny's_ got it. Maybe you should, ah, _lighten up _a bit."

The lights flicked on, and started strobing at a faster rate, between pitch black and different colours. Bruce couldn't make anything out, and tried to head in the direction he thought the glass box was in.

"_A field full of ravers with their ribs broken, bounce up til their shins open, bones poking through, all beat up but a token few."_

"There's no door!" one of the crowd shouted to him, breathlessly. He was wearing a shirt with "bar staff" written on it. The poor bloke hadn't come to work that morning and expected to be raving against his own volition while the Joker and Scarecrow manned the stage.

"_Where's all the Hooligans? The nasty music fans? Lets see ya break some bits and make this pit a zoo again."_

"Shit," he muttered under his breath, looking for somewhere else to find a way in. it was too dark. Too difficult. The Joker turned the music up even more, the sound of a horn starting up cutting into Bruce's thought pattern even more. He needed quiet. He needed to _think_.

"_We came. We saw. We killed the crowd. We came. We saw. We killed the crowd."_

The music was at fever pitch and Bruce had started to panic. It was the type of beat that added something to an already startling atmosphere, and he realised that maybe he _wasn't_ ready to come back yet. He could hear the Joker and Crane's voices over the pounding music and the shrieks of the crowd. He needed to think, he needed to breathe, and the air was too thick…

"_We came. We saw. We killed the crowd. We came. We saw. We killed the crowd." _

The implications of the words finally hit Bruce full in the face, and he glanced around for anything, _anything_, that they might be using to do… something. He could make out the dry ice, connecting to something that Crane was injecting… Bruce pulled on the gas mask he'd had fitted to his mask after last time, looking for the vents. They were covered. He tried to herd the dancers to the door. It slammed shut, locking them in.

"Shit. Shit. Shit!" Bruce thought, frantically looking for another way out.

He could see the Joker and Crane dancing in the back ground, jumping up and down in the box, shouting into the microphones, pushing each other, and holding on to each others necks. If Bruce had've known the song and the video, he'd see the sick parody that it held as the men played it out almost move for move.

"_We came. We saw. We killed the crowd. We came. We saw. We killed the crowd."_

The lights flared up into his face, the filter set on red. The music calmed from the frantic, piercing, pounding rhythm and settled on something lighter, the previous beat quietly playing in the background. The Joker and Crane jumped so that they were facing each other. In a corner of his mind that he tried to ignore Bruce helpfully told himself that it was indeed very theatrical.

"We came. We saw. We killed the crowd…"

A hiss started up, the music stopped, and the crowd stopped their dancing and stood stock still. Bruce looked around him, still frantic, trying to predict what was about to happen.

And then the people in the room started to laugh. Joker and Crane exchanged a glance, identical leering smirks playing up their faces, like they'd just achieved something. Which, really, they had.

The crowd still laughed, they laughed until they cried, and Bruce couldn't speak through the mask to ask what the hell was going on.

And then they stopped laughing, and all dropped to the floor. Bruce knelt down beside the nearest person and felt for the pulse that he already knew wasn't there. They had laughed until they died.

The Joker was laughing himself now. Batman wanted to punch his face in, and ran at the glass. Crane snickered, watching Batman claw at the screen that separated them.

"Gas mask, you've learned," Crane said, and the Joker appeared over his shoulder, looking down at Bruce.

"What? You said I was driving you out of your mind doing _nothing_, and here you are complaining when I do_ something_. I can't win." He threw his arms up in the air, shrugging in mock exasperation.

Crane opened a trapdoor and jumped down.

"Coming, J?"  
>"Yeah, I'll be right down cupcake."<p>

He looked at Batman, still searching for the way in and blew a kiss.

"See ya around, _darling_."

He winked, and followed Crane down the hole, pulling the door shut behind him, leaving Batman feeling confused and empty and worried for Gotham. He calmed himself down and found the trapdoor that lead outside, but they could be anywhere by the time he got to the end of it. It was a wild goose chase, and yet he set off anyway.

He was back in business, and the game was definitely on.

In the tunnel, Jonathan and the Joker walked along with their arms slung around each others shoulders, giggling.

"Did you see his _face_?" Jonathan asked, laughing. The doctor had definitely picked something up from him, the Joker thought, smiling.

"I know. It was like he'd expected us to just give up or something. I mean rea-lly? That's not why we saved him."

"Tell me about it."

The Joker paused the conversation, deep in thought.

"We need something new."  
>"Yeah, I was thinking the exact same thing."<p>

"We've been out of the game far too long, and have been letting him have it far too easy. I've missed the chaos."

"The fear."  
>"Pre-cisely!" he shouted, gesturing madly.<p>

The Joker threw his arm back round Jonathan's shoulders.  
>"But right now…"<br>"Now?"  
>"I need a beer. Champagne just does <em>not <em>taste right."

Jonathan rolled his eyes.

"Do we even have any beer in?"  
>"Eh, yeah. We have a fridge full. And even if we didn't, you can get far in life with a smile." The Joker smirked and reached in his pocket for a gun. "Then again you can get further with a smile and a gun."<p>

"Do you just store all of these phrases and song lyrics in your brain until a time comes where they would fit in?"  
>"Pretty much. Maybe we should get a dog or something. Make the flat a little more domestic. Like a family."<p>

Jonathan recognised the wording from the same mind games he was playing with the Batman, and tried not to smirk. Everything was definitely back to normal.

"No."  
>The Joker pouted, "Aw, why not?"<br>"Because I get enough death threats from the hamster."

The Joker laughed, the sound echoing around them, and they headed back to the flat.

THE END.


End file.
